The Matter to the Bones
by G.M.Portraepic
Summary: After the Gravedigger's assassination, B&B fear that their last tie has been inexplicably severed. Shattered by Hannah's nasty confrontation, Brennan is driven further away from Booth than ever before. A series of consequences will test the partners, and ask the ultimate: will hardship bring them closer together, or tear them apart? AU S6, 6X11 Onwards, until S7.
1. Not A Friend

**TO AUDIENCE: **This is my first fan fiction that I have ever published (and written) for Bones, so please be nice! I haven't done the whole 'reviewing' thing yet, so I don't expect you to if you don't want to! – However encouragement, words of wisdom or constructive criticism would be really nice :) xx

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bones, any of its characters, names events etc. This is purely for entertainment purposes only.**** Thanks for viewing, and enjoy! Xx G**

_**NB: **__Story takes place just after 'The Bullet in the Brain' episode, Season 6 – __Just so you know though, B&B – clearly being bonded by their traumas from this case (and more) leads to Hannah suspecting things between them. This takes place after Hannah has bluntly confronted Bones of her feelings, in front of Booth, to which she flees, unable to tell the imposing blonde of the emotions she felt when she thought she'd never see Booth again._

**The Matter to the Bones**

With each passing moment, her emotionally drawn heart thundered perspicuously. He was within fingers reach. A panel of wood and metal separated them.

Was she really hiding from him? Was that what it was?

"C'mon Bones, I know you're in there," Booth persisted, rapping on the door again. "Open up."

_I did open up to you, _she thought dismally, _and you turned me away_.

She leaned against her front door, pained at the thought the Booth was only a few centimetres away. Close enough to touch.

What was she supposed to tell him?

_Yes, Booth. Your girlfriend is persistent. And prying. And selfish. And perfect.__ She wants what she wants. And I know that I am supposed to be friends with her, but can you really blame me for crumbling on what shaky ground we already had, even before this?_

Somehow that didn't sound correct. Not leaving Temperance Brennan's mouth, anyway.

That wasn't really what he was here about though, and she knew that. She knew that Booth would want the truth behind her fleeing under Hannah's speculation.

The reality was -although he could deny it - that part of him ached to know too. There was far more to it - to _them _- and her partner knew that, just as well as she did.

"Bones?" His voice held a mission behind it; she understood that and despite how pitiful her ability was to pick up emotions otherwise, she could identify with his emotions. She _knew_ him. Better than Hannah.

Better than _all_ of them.

Although the rational thing to do was to refuse him, she couldn't deny the ache to let him in. Fingers trembling, she switched the lock on the door, and it swung open freely.

"Bones," her midnight visitor murmured gently, upon seeing her distraught face. "Invite me in. We need to talk."

Her stomach wrenched unfavourably with anticipation. Her limbs ached; she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Would you like a drink?" Brennan offered, feigning a nonchalant tone as she walked to her fridge.

This casual gesture genuinely surprised her partner.

"Bones, you know well that I'm not here for a drink," he replied tiredly, closing the door behind him. He positioned himself opposite her on the island bench separating them.

"Then what do you propose we do?" she compromised irritably, almost challenging him.

"We need to talk, Bones. I'm your friend," he said gently, relaxing his taut shoulders just the slightest, "and a friend generally knows when their friend is hurting."

"Hurting about what?" Brennan dismissed, walking to her lounge area and poising herself on the edge of her couch. "I am most certainly not hurting. Are you hurting?"

"C'mon Bones, don't do that." He stood in front of her.

"Do what?"

"Lock yourself away from me."

"What do you want me to say, Booth? Because I have no idea. I can't rationalise any thought in which to reply queries valiantly. I don't have anything that is going to satisfy you." She wrung her hands in agitation. "I..."

"Why?" Almost desperate. If his voice didn't read the word, than his voice certainly did.

"Why what?"

"Why did you just take off? We could have talked about it-"

"And said what, Booth?" Brennan demanded suddenly, years of pent up emotions catching themselves in the tears that welled her eyes. "The fact that the Gravedigger nearly killed both of us? The fact that I wrote a goodbye letter to you when I was trapped in the car with Hodgins? The fact that I never stopped and I went to any length to get you back when you were kidnapped? This is _ours. _This is what happened to _us_." She stood again and paced, at loss to know what else she could do. "So do you know what, Booth? I needed my friend. We have been through so much, and I needed you. But you turned to Hannah. And Hannah? She turned to her jealous superstitions that she had no right to pry into!"

"Bones," Booth responded hoarsely, his body taut again, face pinched in anguish. "You just don't get it. I know how this looks to you, but I love Hannah and she's my girlfriend. It is natural to-"

"Don't ever tell me I don't get it, Booth. Because deep down, I do. I _understand._" Brennan continued, locking her crystal bright eyes with his searing, dark own. "It's Hannah. It's always going to be Hannah. The six years that we have had together stand next to n-nothing compared to the two months you knew her before you declared your love. For once Booth, I totally get it."

At last, she understood sarcasm.

She had just used it. Bitterly.

"Bones, that's unfair, and you know it," Booth retorted, annoyance flushing his face readily, stepping in her path so they were only centimetres away from one another.

"Is it? Really? Because I am trying so hard to stay in your life, but part of me thinks you don't want me there anymore."

"Bones!"

"Your shunting me aside," Brennan cried, tears spilling openly down her cheeks, "for once..._you_ don't get it. You c-can't choose when I'm your friend, and then when I'm not-" she choked on a sob, giving her a pause to brush the blurring tears furiously from her eyes, "-so either you want me as one the whole time, or you don't!"

"Of course I want you Bones..." Booth reached out to her, but she recoiled, almost as if she had been slapped.

"Don't," she said.

"Bones!" he whispered agonisingly.

"So you came here tonight...you wanted to talk?" she repressed shakily. "You wanted me to open up to you; well I did. Everything I am feeling. Everything that hurts." She paused deliberately, taking a deep, steady breath. "I left because I needed perspective of my life. I needed to evaluate. And I did. I came back, thinking that I could do it. I came back, ready to declare my feelings to you. Finally I opened my heart to you, only to have it sent right back."

"No, Bones. You don't get to do that," Booth said finally, a certain softness peeling away at the layers of his hard tone. Shaking his head, he continued, "I opened that door for you and I long ago. I gave you the opportunity, and you turned it down."

"I was scared! I didn't know what to do. You didn't give me any warning...I didn't have any time to adjust," she responded with a hiccup, covering her face. "...And this case? It was bound to affect _us_; to resurface all the feelings that we had."

"No Bones, we're passed that. No surfaced feelings," he lied in reply, pinching the bridge of his nose, knotting his eyes closed in frustration.

There was a long silence.

"What did I do?" Her voice was weak and crushed. Tears welled by gallons in her eyes, ready to replace the ones that had already spilled. She sat down passively, giving in.

Booth sat beside her.

"What do you mean?" he asked gently, catching her gaze again.

"How did I ruin all we had?" Brennan asked, voice strangled.

"You haven't. You didn't."

"I have, Booth. Don't you see?" She composed herself. "I ruined us the moment I made the mistake of telling you how I feel."

"How can you say that, Bones!" Booth gasped incredulously. "Why? After we've been through so much!"

"See, here you are, saying that you love Hannah, and that will never change...but I'm left here wondering whether your emotions are conclusive! You defend you emotions for me, after you so bluntly replied with the opposite!"

Another silence hung heavily in the air, and the pair felt the thickness of the atmosphere surrounding them.

"I think you should go, Booth," Brennan emitted ultimately, worn.

And he didn't argue. He stared at her with an unfathomable, burning expression for a mere few moments, and then he departed.

-B&B-

**There's the first snippet/chapter everyone - I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is greatly appreaciated, because I really have no idea what I'm doing here! I'll post the next chapter soon. - I promise it'll earn the T rating later!**

**Xx G**


	2. A Walk Down Memory Lane

**Thank you so much to all who reviewed - I was stoked! I'm glad you all liked the last chapter, and I really hope that I can keep you interested!**

**NB: This chapter will explain some things - don't worry! **

The Matter to the Bones

2. A Walk Down Memory Lane

Brennan woke the next morning feeling as though she hadn't fallen asleep to begin with. Roused by the intruding shrill of her mobile phone, she drew a pillow from the opposite side of her bed and buried her face beneath it, praying for the ringing to cease.

When it finally stopped, she had relaxed her rigid muscles for all of five minutes before it sounded noisily again. Knowing that she couldn't ignore it any longer, she struck out a hand blindly and fumbled for the cell on her bed side table.

"Brennan." Her tone was drowsy, but it was the best she could manage after a fitful sleep.

"Dr Brennan, it's Dr Saroyan."

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering when you were planning on making an appearance today."

Brennan muted, silently wishing that she could stay in bed and squander in self pity all day. Although wanting such a thing was very unlike her, the proposition was tempting, all the same.

"Dr Brennan?" her boss persisted when she didn't reply.

"Yes, I'll be in soon."

"Make that very soon."

"What time is it?"

"Nearly eleven." Cam's voice sounded a little irritated.

Sighing, Brennan dismissed her caller and tossed the phone in front of her. She would shower, skip breakfast and be there right away. Although it was a Saturday, showing up at work when it was nearly lunchtime was unacceptable.

Moaning, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and trudged to her shower. Upon taking off yesterday's clothing and stepping underneath the steamy spray, she willingly allowed herself to be engulfed by the soapy essences that hinted of lime and buttermilk.

She didn't have a plan.

But somehow, that nonexistent plan was going to work.

-B&B-

"Sweetie?" Angela called from the doorway of Brennan's office, not long after her friend had arrived. "You got a minute?"

Brennan sat down her laptop bag beside her desk and turned. "Is something wrong, Ange? How are you feeling?"

"I'm, good, sweetie, it's just that..." her best friend delivered slowly, "something is up. And it's not with me."

"Then why are you here?" Brennan furrowed a brown in confusion.

"Because, Bren. Something's up. With _you_. I mean, you didn't even say hi to Hodgins and Wendell."

Brennan sighed, momentarily meeting Angela's searching gaze.

Her friend immediately perceived the pain hidden behind them, and placed a comforting hand on her arm.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"Angela then prompted, motioning to the couch.

Upon receiving a nod of response, they took a seat.

"Where do you want to begin?" Angela patted her knee.

"Ange...I would like to tell you everything, but I find that I don't wish to recount all of the-"

"Bren."

"Hmm?"

"Just say it; say anything. I don't mind."

"I hurt," Brennan confessed, shrugging as if the notion were ridiculous. "I have this...this longing, and I can't explain it." She took a deep breath, contemplating. "He came to me last night - in the middle of the night - and wanted the truth, Ange, and I gave it to him. I demanded to know that, if he is such the friend he claims to be, why he couldn't be there for me when _I_ needed him. Hannah just requires him for lustrous purposes. I just needed a shoulder-" she broke off mid sentence, frowning. "I don't mean literally, needing a shoulder..."

"It's okay, Bren. I get it."

"Really? Because Booth thought that I didn't."

"Sweetie, you have to remember that Booth is probably in denial-"

"Denying what?"

Angela's face twisted. "Just tell me where this all came from, please, Bren, or can't help you."

Brennan took a deep breath.

- ~ B&B ~ -

Thirteen Hours Ago...

_The Founding Fathers was still brimming with people, who__, while celebrating the freedoms of their Friday night, seemed completely oblivious to the drama that had unfolded within the past few days._

_Brennan traced the rim of her wineglass absently, lifting her head occasionally to scan the full bar. A group of drunken work colleagues crowded in one corner. Two lovers, with their heads bowed together nibbled giddily at each other in another. Centred in front of her, a family of four had their hands buried in a bowl of hot chips._

_Her father had left a few hours ago, and Brennan had gone home, paced, changed into a clean white cotton shirt, brushed off her jeans, put on her blue and white striped socks before sitting down to work on her novel._

_Although she had a lot to say, nothing had left her fingers but one word._

_Andy._

_The name of the character that she had based Booth on. She might as well have typed her partner's name instead, because it would have had the same affect. She also knew that, would she ever write Hannah in, she would make her a criminal. That thought cheered her, but didn't ease the pain._

_Frustrated, she had stuffed a wad of money deep into each jean pocket, pulled on a pair of boots, added a trench coat, and set off to drink her favourite beverage. Her tongue had ached for it. And she had needed a distraction._

_Now, taking a larger sip of her wine, she savoured the white liquor in her mouth decently before swallowing._

_The Gravedigger was dead._

_Gone. Never again._

_Brennan took another mouthful._

_The last of her lingering, emotional ties to Booth._

_Gone. He had moved on. _

_Another mouthful._

_Staring at her empty glass, she massaged her temples._

"_Bones?" The voice was almost stunned._

"_Booth," Brennan replied, turning around instinctively to face the direction the voice had come from. She was just as surprised to see him here - and not in bed with his lover - as he was to see her drinking._

"_Bones, what are you doing here so late?" He sounded almost wary._

"_Having a drink." Brennan replied slowly, secretly wishing he'd join her, but upon seeing the company her kept, her heart fell, and all she called do over._

"_Hello Temperance," Hannah greeted quickly, wrapping her arm around Booth's waist, and with her free hand, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt._

_The forensic anthropologist's chest welled hysterically, and she felt an aggravated boil at the pit of her stomach._

"_Hannah," Brennan acknowledged, swiftly meeting her with a smile. "How are you?"_

"_Really well," the blonde replied, sneaking her fingers even lower down on Booth's torso. "Seeley and I went to that new restaurant near the mall, and thought we'd come here for a drink. Brennan, I though you were with your father?"_

"_He went home a couple of hours ago." Her jaw tensed as she replied. "I came here for a drink; had an itch for Australian Barossa Valley."_

"_You like Australian wine?" Hannah gawked._

"_It's the best besides Italian wines." Brennan waved for the bartender to refill her glass. "The Founding Fathers is the only place that will stock it, so, unfortunate for others, but good for me. I don't have to try very to get it, even though I could easily afford to have sent to me privately."_

"_Do you recommend it?" Hannah tried to conceal a bitter twist of her lips at the mention of how easy it was for Brennan to get what she wanted._

"_If you're strong enough to handle it," Brennan challenged, taking a sip of her newly filled glass. "Yes, then, I do."_

_Hannah propped herself beside Brennan, despite Booth's subtle protests._

_"Shout me a glass, and we'll see." Hannah waved the bartender._

"_Get yourself a beer Booth, if you don't feel like our wine tonight," his partner advised as his girlfriend was served some white._

Our wine.

_Hannah noticed the subtle eye exchange – saw the flicker of a memory shared in the split second they held each other's gaze. It reminded her of what she had originally sought out to do the night she discovered the beautiful scientist had feelings for the FBI agent._

_It reminded her of what she needed to do._

_She was good at this; she could be a pretty convincing, innocent investigator. She would urge Brennan to face her feelings in front of Booth, and hopefully it would force her man's partner to back off. She knew that Brennan would lock herself away from her feelings, and hide behind her logic. So long as Brennan retreated again, Hannah had nothing to worry about. __She wasn't going to be anyone's rebound girl or consolation prize, and so long as Brennan was glued to Seeley, that was as much as she was going to be. _

_Brennan was watching her carefully, but for what reason, she had no idea; she knew Temperance couldn't read people socially to save her life._

"_So," Hannah prompted after the casual conversation they then shared, had eased to silence. "The Gravedigger case...what exactly happened to you guys? Seeley never told me."_

_Brennan observed Hannah nudge Booth, but instead he inched a centimetre away, and his eyes darkened. He fiddled with the neck of his bottle of beer._

_He was uncomfortable. Terribly._

No Hannah_, she thought, meeting the sassy blonde's darting eyes with a warning stare. __This went completely missed by the reporter, who was on the trail of a story that she couldn't let go._

_Hannah knew that she had passed into dangerous territory, but she knew what she wanted. Even if she had to sting Seeley a bit in the process._

"_I think we're all close enough now to share some secrets," Hannah pressed, ignoring the look that her boyfriend shot her. "I deserve to know what you guys went through. A bit of honesty."_

"_I...I was captured first..." Brennan revealed suddenly, and Booth's eyes met hers in alarm, "...by the Gravedigger. I thought I was going to die. So did Hodgins. Booth was...afterwards." Again, another deeply emotional stare was silently exchanged._

_Hannah leant for__ward, ready to get the rest of the story. "What was it like?" she asked persistently, setting down her wine glass._

"_What was what like?" Crystal blue eyes widened genuinely._

"_When you thought you were never going to see anyone you loved...ever again?" Although the reporter momentarily regretted her bland question, she couldn't kill the curiosity. _What had it felt like?

_Brennan balked. "Excuse me?"_

"_You know...you two. Twice you thought you'd never see him again...so now the case is over...those feelings__..."_

"_N-no," Brennan stammered, standing._

"_What do you mean __'no'?" Hannah asked innocently, pursing her lips._

"_I was kidding myself," she gasped breathlessly in reply. "I-I can't do this anymore."_

"_Do what?" The blonde tucked a stray lock behind her ear._

"_N-no. I'm not playing this with you." Brennan shook her head and pulled a wad of notes from her pocket and thrust them at the bartender. "Keep the change," she told him, before pulling her coat from the back of her chair and striding out into the cool evening._

_She hailed a cab hastily, and stumbled to the bus shelter._

"_Bones, I am-" __Booth had followed her out._

"_Don't say anything Booth! You just sat there and let her abuse me," she interrupted him before he could make her feel worse than she already did._

"_That's not what happened-" Doubtful._

"_That is _exactly_ what it was!" Fuming._

_A bright yellow cab pulled over._

_Brennan yanked the door open. "Go back to your girlfriend, Booth. Stop wasting your time with me." She slammed it closed and gave the driver directions._

_Booth waited for her to turn and look at him as the car pulled away. She always did._

_But not this time._

_He hung his head despairingly, and struck the shelter with his fist __- just at the moment when Brennan flicked her head around to gaze painfully at his person._

_ - ~ B&B ~ -_

"Oh sweetie," Angela sighed sadly when Brennan had finished her recount. "I'm so sorry."

For a moment, the artist thought that Brennan would become rigid, and logical. She thought that her friend would turn her away again. But it was quite the opposite.

Brennan didn't say a word, but merely leaned in and rested her head on Angela's shoulder, who sighed and rested her own against the heart-torn woman in her arms.

This was enough.

There were footsteps at the doorway, but they were ignored.

Minutes, or moments later, Cam cleared her throat gently, encouraging the two to separate.

"Angela, Hodgins wanted you for lunch," she said quietly, standing by as the artist hugged Brennan reassuringly once more, and left.

Cam stared at her colleague, who met her gaze before slowly standing.

"The FBI wants that Gravedigger conclusion report by three, Dr Brennan."

The anthropologist nodded and came to face her friend. "Yes, of course. I'll have it for you in time."

Both paused, and Cam turned to leave.

"Tempe?" she asked hesitantly, aware of what she was going to say, and what effect it could have.

Brennan looked up, almost in alarm as her boss used her first name casually.

"Yes, Cam?"

"My take...for what it's worth."

"Yes?" Brennan folded her arms across her stomach.

"You were always my first choice for him."

- ~ B&B ~ -

**There you have it, fellow readers - chapter two! I hope it explains a bit, and I hope that you're still interested: don't worry, of course there's a B&B encounter next chapter :) Again, thank you all so much for your reviews and support; they made my day!**

**Xx G**


	3. Twiddled Thumbs

**The Matter to the Bones Chapter 3**

**Hello loyal readers! Here is your third chapter -**

**Thank you to all reviews and supportive words - they really do cheer me up so much! xx**

* * *

><p>3. Twiddled Thumbs<p>

_Temperance Brennan._

She stared at her own fluent, cursive script which formed her name into a tidy signature. That was it.

Her last report she ever have to file on something related to Heather Taffet.

Not surprisingly, she felt some closure as she sealed the envelope that she would never have to open again. After applying the Jeffersonian stamp, she placed it in the tray on the edge of her desk to be collected. Pressing her palms together, she bowed her head against them and heaved a sigh.

"Dr Brennan?"

Brennan's eyes shot open, and she sat up. "Yes Cam?"

"I..." Camille's voice drifted off unsurely, almost warily.

"Cam?"

"It's...ah..."

"Bones?" Another person stood behind her boss now, wearing an expression that was indescribable. His voice was soft - like it had been last night whenever he had been told.

At loss at how to respond at his appearance, Brennan swallowed quickly and nodded towards him in acknowledgement.

"Booth wants the report." Cam wrung her hands.

"But...I could have had an assistant deliver it," Brennan avouched. "Why are you here?"

"Just...y'know Bones." He shifted from foot to foot.

"I don't know..." she mumbled in reply, fiddling with a pen within finger's reach.

Cam clasped her hands together suddenly. "I think I should...I'm going to go." She turned on her heel and disappeared, hitting Booth's chest as she brushed past.

"H-how are you, Bones?" he asked when Cam was out of earshot.

"I have wrapped up the Gravedigger report, I currently have nothing to work on, and I am at loggerheads with you. Just wonderful, thanks."

Booth was silent.

"Anyway, I don't matter. How are you?" She stood and shuffled needlessly through papers, desperately try to come across as blasé, even though she was feeling the complete opposite. "You look horrible," she added as a deduction when he didn't reply.

Booth's eyes flashed furiously. "Really Bones? You think so? _Really_?"

"Don't use that tone with me," she mandated, fixing her eyes on him sternly. "I don't appreciate it."

"You don't _appreciate_ it?"

"Stop it."

He strode over and stood defensively in front of her, hands balled into fists.

Brennan stood her ground.

Although she was furious, staring into his torn face, her will crumbled, and she began to search the depths of his eyes pleadingly with her own. At that moment, she not only saw the angry person that she had accused yesterday, but behind his eyes, she saw past the man he was with Hannah. For a flicker of a moment, she saw the man that she loved.

_Loved._

And it hurt.

Booth may have hurt her, but he was hurting too. And she spear-headed that pain, didn't she?

Somehow, in the last few moments, he had moved so close that she felt his warm, savour breath touch her face upon his exhale.

As she dizzily replied to his closeness all over her body, coherent thought was impossible.

_He was so close._

Close enough to touch.

Forcing her hand from her side, and collecting the envelope from her tray, she brought it up between them.

"Booth?"

Brennan mentally chided herself for how uneven her voice sounded.

"Yes?" A husky, soft reply. Almost a whisper.

"Your report." She tapped the A4 package against his chest.

He took it from her swiftly, and cleared his throat.

"Right, thanks." A step back from her.

"You're welcome." Brennan turned quickly and retrieved her lab coat from the closest in the corner of her room.

When she went to face him again though, he was gone.

-~B&B~-

"Dr B, when were you thinking about heading home?" Hodgins asked later that same day, gathering his files from the platform. "It's late."

"I know, Dr Hodgins, but I have done later." She stared again at the radius bone resting in her gloved hands.

Why was she even looking at it? The Civil War soldier on the slab in front of her had been extracted of all possible information. Her interns had done a thorough examination.

The research department of the Jeffersonian was holding the exhibition for the American Civil War in less than a month, and this had been the last of the major studies to compile.

Having been far too distracted with the Gravedigger case, Cam had suggest that it be a project for the 'squinterns' when they weren't on roster for the murder investigation.

It had been a success, and they had been thorough.

So _why was she still staring at it_? She had nothing to do. She was sitting around, twiddling her thumbs, and waiting for a case - as of today.

"Brennan, you've been staring at these bones for nearly an hour now; why not just let it go for the night, and worry about it tomorrow?"

The anthropologist really didn't want to leave, but she was emotionally and physically drained; so long as she was this tired, nothing scientific was going to jump out and reveal itself to her.

"Okay."

Hodgins was taken back by her easy reply. "Okay...? Well, I'll see you on Monday, then."

"Yes...Monday. Good bye, Hodgins."

The father-to-be had to shake his head at her absentmindedness, but he remembered Angela's gentle warning to him, when she had revealed that there was a fair bit of tension generating between the Hannah-Booth-Brennan love triangle.

Taking the bone from her and stowing it away, he took her arm with his free hand and guided her to her office.

"Take care," he murmured, watching his friend as she collected her belongings mechanically.

Convinced that she was actually going to leave, he left her office.

"Hodgins?" Came her small voice before he had taken more than five steps.

He flicked his head around. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Thank you...?"

"For caring about me...for...being my friend."

"Your welcome."

-~B&B~-

_Kathy__ stared at Andy unfathomably._

"_I can't believe you would think that," she whispered heatedly, leaning against her chair for support. "Of all the people..."_

"_Don't make this something that it's not; you're in the wrong too."_

"_Me?"_

"_Yes, you!"_

"_Why me?__"_

"_Because you..."_

"_Because I _'what',_ Andy?"_

"_You never told me, okay? You never said a freaking word! Now it's too late." The agent was agonisingly pained._

"_Andy..." Kathy was breathless. She reached out to him. He turned away. She tried again – pressed her hand against his cheek. Cupped it. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "for what I put you through. So, so sorry."_

_He looked at her despairingly. "It's too late. We've hurt each other too much. The timing is wrong...it's always been wrong."_

"_No." The__ scientist shook her head defiantly. "It's not."_

"_How can you know that? How can you say that?"_

"_Because I love you. __I've got to believe it." _

_Andy gaped at her__ for a moment, before closing the place between them and bring her lips to his, emptying the years of pent-up rage, passion and love into that one kiss._

_For once they had to agreed on something; despite their differences, everything would be okay._

_They had to believe it._

~B&B~

Brennan smiled contently and leaned back into her couch, re-reading the content of the final chapter to her latest manuscript. Hodgins had been right to send her home; she had had the most wonderful brainwave the moment she stepped outside the building.

Resolve.

And now there it was: After a saga of novels, her character had finally taken the plunge, like she had.

But Kathy would get her happy ending; Brennan would make sure of it - she only wished that her love life was that easily written and backspaced.

Satisfied with the closure of the chapter, Brennan sat down her Mac notebook, and traded it for her cup of tea. Staring at the empty space in front of her, she couldn't help but feel what that small place in front of her reflected; empty. Listless.

She needed to get away for a little while. Perhaps with her father. She just needed to be from everyone for a day or two.

_Away from Booth._

She would swing by her editor's place the following day with her completed manuscript, and then visit Max. He always opted for an opportunity to spend with time with her, and although she wanted to be alone, she didn't want to be _entirely_ alone.

That way, she and Booth would have space, and a chance to blow off. Although their encounter that afternoon had almost been intimate, the emotional moment hadn't broken any angry ties. The both needed the chance to let things blow over.

It was a plan.

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><p><strong>NB: This is the last 'fiddling' chapter (no more stuffing aruond - we'll get into the 'goodness'!) Feel free to make any suggestions, because when the road hits a fork, it's great to hear what <em>you<em> guys would love to see/hear happen! Will update again soon!**

**Thank you so much all - Xx G**


	4. Away

**The Matter to the Bones - Chapter 4**

**Hi readers! I'm so sorry it took me a little while to upload again - I just needed to be inspired and find the time! Don't worry though - the next chapter is well and truly nearly finished, and I promise it won't be long for another upload. Thank you to all who have reviewed and/or added me as a favourite author/alert, story alert etc - it really does mean a lot to me, and makes me smile! :D**

**Happy reading guys!**

**Xx G **

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><p>4. Away<p>

"Dr Brennan, did I do an exceptionally wonderful job at analysing the bones for exhibition?" Daisy Wick asked ecstatically the following morning. "I gather that you overlooked our research notes and examined the bones yourself and I-"

"Ms Wick," Cam intercepted. "Breathe pause."

Daisy nodded sharply once and sealed her lips closed.

"Now," Cam continued, resting her hands on her hips, "Dr Brennan...you were in the process of telling me about your vacation plans..."

Stunned for a split second, Brennan collected her thoughts, before replying. "Well not so much a _vacation_. Just a couple a days away to wine country with my Dad. Will four days be alright?"

Cam had an opinion, but kept it to herself with much difficulty. "There really isn't much going on here, so I see no reason why not. Just be prepared that if a case does come up, you will have to return."

"Of course. I plan on leaving late this afternoon. I trust you have no issue with this?"

"No...no issue. Have fun." Cam turned away quickly to avoid the two women catching her expression.

When their boss was out of earshot, Daisy turned to Brennan again.

"I am so glad that you decided to-" she began in the same exuberant tone, only to be interrupted again.

"Yes, you performed well, Ms Wick. I am very satisfied with the work that you did. Now I would prefer it if you left me to myself." Brennan took a seat at her desk and picked up her BlackBerry. "I will see you later."

The young intern nodded respectfully and dismissed herself, fighting the urge to thank her mentor, but understanding that that would only irritate her.

At last, on her own, Brennan glanced down at her phone.

Three missed calls from Hannah.

One cancelled call from Booth.

A text message from her father.

It was easy to choose the first person to reply to; her father wanted to know whether she was to pick him up, or he was to meet her at the holiday spot. She assured him that they were taking her car, and that they would meet at her apartment before leaving.

Easy done.

The other two, however, weren't as easily answered.

Technically Booth's call had never reached her phone, so although she would have preferred to answer his, she knew that she couldn't avoid the inevitable. Hannah had to be spoken to.

But not yet.

- ~ B ~ -

Brennan held the weighted block in her hands, mentally debating before adding two of them to her shopping trolley.

She was going on a holiday; why not indulge in a little chocolate?

After making sure that her father's favourites were accounted for, and her own were all stocked up, Brennan made her way to the cash register, and pulled out her wallet.

She froze when three people emerged from the supermarket entryway.

One of them, she was glad to see.

But the fact that they were all there together, made her skin tingle with irritation, and her cheeks flush jealously. She finished unloading her trolley and prayed for a quick service from her cashier.

Brennan hung her head slightly and allowed her hair to cover her the sides of her face, hoping that she wouldn't be noticed.

"Bones! Dr Bones!" Parker's youthful voice called out upon seeing her.

_Wishful thinking._

"Bones!" Booth's boy skipped over.

Gritting her molars, she looked up and plastered a smile on her face.

"Hey there Parker!" She rustled the caramel curls on his head playfully. "How's my favourite little Booth?"

"Great; I had my science fair today."

"Is that so? How did you-"

"Hello Temperance."

_Hannah._

Brennan inwardly cringed. They were still _together_, even after the deliberate emotional ambush that she had planted on her unsuspecting victim. Momentarily, Brennan felt a damper on her already saddened mood; she had honestly thought that she knew Booth better than that.

The couple reached her.

Booth was quiet.

"Temperance, why haven't you been answering my calls?"

The cashier alerted Brennan to swipe her card. Complying quickly, punching in her pin, and stowing away her card and wallet, she turned slightly towards Hannah as she packed in the plastic bags to her trolley.

"It's a form of self preservation," Brennan replied swiftly, meeting the blonde's eyes for a fleeting moment.

"Temperance, we're friends..."

Booth seemed to sense the tension and towed Parker away. Unable to contain herself, Brennan shot daggers into his back with her blazing eyes; he might believe in people fighting their own wars, but she certainly didn't want to fight his cheetah of a girl. Regardless, she was a _lioness_. She wouldn't let this woman destroy Temperance Brennan and get under her skin more than she already had.

"That appears to be your definition, Hannah," Brennan told her finally, "but I do not return the feeling. You betrayed my confidence in you, and I would prefer that we don't converse beyond anything more than for Booth's benefit. If I don't answer your calls, than there is a reason certainly behind it."

The trolley now full, she collected her receipt at the conclusion of her reply, and strode out of the shopping centre with the last word under her arm.

-~B&B~-

Max arrived promptly, as promised, and the pair were on the road in their packed car within half an hour of his arrival. Max chattered cheerfully, while Brennan was lost in her own mass of thoughts.

_Work. _

_Anticipation of returning to work._

_Fear of which direction her relationship with Booth was leading to._

_Whether she had a relationship with him at all._

_The opening of the exhibition._

_A dress._

_A beautiful dress...she needed a dress._

"Tempe?" Her father's worried voice cut through her thoughts.

"Yes? Sorry."

"Are you going to tell me what's really wrong?"

Brennan sighed and clutched the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles whitened.

"I don't really know what to say Dad," she sighed, tensing the muscles of her forearm agitatedly. "I don't know how to really explain how I'm feeling..."

"You didn't ask for this trip, just to spend time with me," Max stated, staring at her earnestly, and holding up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "But I understand that you needed to get away...perhaps with me, or maybe just with anyone. I know it's hard for you, Tempe, but you can talk to me. Even if you can't say it yet."

Brennan smiled softly, weak with gratitude at her father's understanding, forgiving words. Although their relationship had been estranged, their gradual openness with each other helped rekindle their bond, brick by brick.

-~B&B~-

The small lodge that they had rented out for the next four days was a comfortable, French-style decorated abode. It overlooked the vast winery, and was but a ten minute walk from the main restaurant. When everything was packed away, Max expressed his desire to take a walk and meet some of the winery workers on site. Brennan wished to indulge in a long bath. After securing dinner plans, both went their separate ways for the remainder of the afternoon, until eight o'clock, when they would meet again for their meal.

Lathering herself in frothy soap, Brennan leaned back into the deep set of the bath and let out a quiet moan.

Here she was for four days, where she could drink wine, be giggly, read novels, turn in late and wake up even later...this was exactly what she needed. Time to wind down.

Perhaps not as far away as the Maluku Islands, but a place to evaluate her life again, now that Hannah – _no matter how irritating and unhealthy she was for Booth_ – was sticking around, Brennan needed a new game plan.

Should could have plotted various ways to be-rid Hannah, but that wasn't how she wanted the blonde to disappear from the picture.

_No_. If Hannah was going to leave, it would be because the woman screwed up herself, not vice versa.

Enough of the woman though.

Brennan forced cheerier thoughts and closed her eyes.

_Relax._

_Breathe._

_Relax._

_Breathe..._

For the next four days, she would momentarily escape her life and do exactly that.

-~B~-

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><p><strong>Mmmm...don't we all wish that we could take holidays as easily as that? I do! Anyhow, as promised, next chapter will be posted soon. Again, thank you to reviewers: it's great to hear what you think. <strong>

**Xx G**


	5. Little Discoveries

**Hello my wonderful readers! Thank you for staying with me - and thank you so much for your supportive words and comments! School is in full swing, so I am trying to post as regularly as I can. I promise chapter six isn't far away. Please do suggest things: they really help me along. They inspire me to keep on going and give you guys your story.**

**Here you go:**

**Xx G**

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><p>5. Little Discoveries<p>

Hannah played with the keypad of her laptop, picking at the dust and sand grains caught in the crevices between letters, utterly bored. She hadn't had a story in too long, and with the small window frame that she was permitted to study at the moment, her future wasn't looking prosperous.

Her only option was to move on; find another thrilling story place. When she had made the decision to come to DC, she had thought herself in love. Now, the flame was dying down, and she had the sickening feeling that despite her warnings to him, Booth would want to take the relationship further. Marriage.

_Or,_ she thought, shuddering, _he might even want children._

The front door of their apartment shut soundly, and the reporter swung her head around quickly to meet the intruder to her solitude.

Booth stood by the door, shrugging out of his blazer.

Hannah jumped to her feet and met him, her hands snaking to pull off the last of his jacket.

"Hey hun," she greeted, allowing her hands to fumble the buttons of his shirt. "I missed you."

Booth tidily collected her hands, and let them down by her sides. "I saw you forty minutes ago, Hannah."

_Oh god, _Hannah thought exasperatedly, _I already have Temperance Brennan giving me the school in literal – I don't need it from him too._

She stood back. "Well do you want to make up for that forty minutes lost?" she asked suggestively, eying him seductively.

Booth folded his jacket over his arm and walked past her. "Not tonight, Hannah."

"Why not?" She pouted disappointedly, desperately trying to hide her flush of rejection.

"Because we don't have to do it every night, okay? It shouldn't just be about the lust." Booth entered his bedroom. "Couldn't you just be happy with me holding you for tonight?"

Hannah followed him in and put her hands on her hips. "You're going down the road of _deep and meaningful_," she bitterly replied, "so let's stop now before we waste time visiting a road that isn't going to be taken."

"Excuse me?"

Hannah shrugged. "I'm not repeating myself, Seeley."

"Are you really this annoyed with me, just because I won't sleep with you?" Booth folded his arms across his chest. "C'mon Hannah; we had a great night with Parker, and I don't want you ruining a good mood."

"Me? Ruining a mood? You're the one killing my buzz."

Booth covered his face with a hand and sighed into it. "Enough, Hannah. Let's just go to sleep."

"I'm not tired." She set her jaw stubbornly.

"Well then, that's your problem. Got burn off some steam while I get some hours of shut-eye."

She walked over and pressed her lips hungrily against his. "Are you sure you're that tired?" she muttered against his mouth. "I mean I-"

Booth pushed her away.

Hannah gaped. "What in hell?" she demanded, irritated.

"I said _no_, Hannah," he replied evenly, stepping back, "I wasn't kidding. I'm exhausted."

His girlfriend pasted a smile. "Fine. Sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

She exited the room, and both knew that she wouldn't be returning that night.

-~B&B~-

Although Booth felt drained, sleep didn't come for a very long time.

At first he tried to relax himself with thoughts of his son, but he then recalled the tension that evening that Parker had had with Hannah. Parker knew that there was a rift between Bones and his father, and had seemingly come to the conclusion that Hannah was the cause.

Ruefully, Booth remembered how much Parker idolised and looked up to Bones. She adored him in return.

What the father couldn't understand was why Hannah couldn't be so easily fixated into Parker's 'top ten' list.

_Hannah._

His thoughts drifted to his girlfriend. Her neurotic expectations of a relationship.

She didn't want to settle down. She didn't want children. She didn't want to stay in the same place. She wanted excitement. Sex. Sex. Lust.

Moaning, Booth rolled over onto his side, and the phone call that he had shared with Angela earlier that day, flittered across his thoughts.

"_...I would say don't worry about her Booth, but lately, you have given her a lot of reason for me to watch over her. The other day she _hugged_ me. Now, I'm not talking cheerful hug here; I am talking _'I'm upset and I need your support'_ kind of hug. I know that I'm her best friend, but I thought that that was your gig..." _

His conversation with Bones a couple of nights ago:

"_...You can't choose when I'm your friend and then when I'm not...so either you want me as one the whole time, or you don't." _Betrayal. She had looked so heartbreakingly betrayed.

His heart had broken too, on the inside - its walls had cracked hopelessly. _Guilt_. He had been shunting her aside. He chose when he wanted to talk to her and be friendly. Other times he ran off with Hannah. He was supposed to be the one who stood up for her; when she was hurting, he was supposed to be her friend.

Some friend he had been.

At the supermarket that afternoon, he hadn't said a word to her, and had cowered away.

What was he _doing_?

He had gone away to war again, and returned as an angry, confused person. A person who, when he looked in the mirror in the mornings, already regretted the day before it had begun.

Why did he _feel_ that way? Why did he feel that, ever since that night in the SUV, turning down Brennan was the biggest mistake he had made in his whole life, besides pushing her that night outside the Hoover? Of course he would never, ever cheat on Hannah, but he could have ended what he had with her, and opened a new door with Brennan.

Instead, he had gone on as he had, and although his heart had been breaking, and his frustration had been sitting on boiling point, the moment that he had made that mistake, he knew that it had never changed.

Telling Brennan that Hannah was not a consolation prize, had been no lie; because at the time, he truly believe that she wasn't.

But now? Sweet's words early on in his relationship, had been surfacing all week. For weeks.

The psychologist's warning regarding the dynamics of his adrenalin-foundered relationship. The sex. The dangers of living where they were; his relationship with Hannah, had been that of summer love, dosed up with shots of ecstasy. Only this summer love wasn't going to last.

Sadly, Booth wondered how much longer he could stay with Hannah.

And what would Brennan do, if things ended with Hannah? Would she turn him away? Accept him? Ignore the prospect entirely? Would she lock herself away, sworn off from the prospect of love, ever again?

Everyone else had always known, and he, the person who knew Brennan best, had never really listened.

"_...Because if you reach those d__efences, and it turns out you don't really love her..." _

Sweets.

"_...She'll die of loneliness before she'll ever trust anyone ever again."_

_Cam._

At that moment, in the later hours of the night, he found himself wanting to be with her more than anyone.

_Bones._

He drifted into a deep slumber, too exhausted to worry about bridges that he could cross the next day. Or the day after that. Or the weeks that followed.

-~B&B~-

Hannah wasn't sure what time Booth had fallen asleep, but gentle snores escaped from his room occasionally after an hour, and that was enough to settle her nerves.

She knew that she would be taking the couch tonight, and couldn't seem to find a bone in her body to convince her that she didn't deserve it. Although she accepted his firmness with her, she was extremely annoyed; Booth had lost the playful stance of their relationship and had replaced it with the yearning to settle down the waves.

Why did he have to treat her like the child of the relationship? Obviously _he_ had kept a huge secret from _her_; one, that if she weren't a more tolerant person, probably would have broken them up. Or wedged a massive rift.

At least now, Temperance had retreated. She had run away, just as Hannah had hoped. So long as her boyfriend's partner was out of the way, she had the chance to fix her relationship with him. There was only one thing standing in her way though; the beautiful scientist may have been subtracted from the equation, but there was still one matter unsolved.

Did Booth return the feelings? Did that explain his distance from her since Temperance had revealed her own feelings? There was only one way to find out.

The wooden box that Booth kept under his bed, beneath his head. It would be difficult, but she could get it. She knew that it was important to him. It contained something. Perhaps an insight.

If Temperance was that important to him, there would be evidence of it.

After contemplating a plan, Hannah slipped noiselessly through his bedroom door. Hardly breathing, she tiptoed, grateful for the soft rug beneath her feet that silenced her footsteps.

Booth lay centred in the bed, almost curled into a defensive ball. He stirred momentarily, but didn't wake. Hannah, calming her nerves, tried to ignore the fact that a trained sniper slept just feet away from her. One wrong move was all it would take to rouse him from his sleep.

She had to be ever so careful.

Kneeling, she discovered the mahogany box exactly where she had last seen it. When it was safely in her arms, she backed away warily from her sleeping boyfriend. At last, she was free of the room.

She rushed to the couch and eased the lid open.

Newspaper clippings. Photographs.

Parker, Booth's grandfather...Temperance. One of Rebecca, even. A young soldier, who appeared to be in his early twenties. More newspaper clippings. A couple of military medals. A memory stick, with a small tag attached to it.

It read:

_I don't know whether this would make you upset, but I had the bartender film this. Chopped out the end. You know why. X Ange._

Hannah set down the box and pulled her laptop from its charger. Heart thumping nervously in her chest, she stuck the inoffensive chip into the side of her computer.

A little folder appeared, with one film held in its space. She clicked it open and watched.

_Familiar faces laughed cheerfully. Booth had Temperance's arm, and appeared to be encouraging her. Suddenly, Temperance went to the stage and began bopping to the rythm of a piano. She stripped her jacket, threw it down, and stared at her audience, a cheeky challenge colouring her blushing cheeks. She began to sing._

_Booth gazed at her adoringly, his face alight as she sung through her karaoke. She jumped. Everyone clapped. Booth lit a lighter and waved it above his head. His eyes held hers infinitely. _

_All at once there was a disruption. Someone called Booth's name. All at once his face became very serious, and he turned defensively, plunging in Brennan's path protectively._

The video came to an end.

Hannah sat, confused utterly for a moment. She watched it again. Watched the adoring gaze that the two shared. She ripped out the USB device without ejecting it properly, and stowed it back in the box.

Next she sort through folded papers. Some were army-related, and she didn't bother. Another surprised her.

It read:

_Dedicated to my best friend and partner Special Agent Seeley Booth._

It appeared to be a dedication for a novel. Picking up the stack of photos, Hannah slumped back into the couch.

_Parker. Parker. Booth and Parker. Booth and Pops. Booth and Temperance. Booth and Temperance. Booth and Temperance. Booth and Temperance._

She made an irritated throaty sound, clearly unimpressed.

Suddenly, a throat was cleared behind her. She started, and the box of possessions and photos flew from her lap, scattering across the floor.

"What do you think you're doing?" A very cut, husky voice asked from behind her.

She turned to face Booth's dark, hurt eyes.

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 - Done and dusted. Hoped that it was okay - added a wee bit of tension, didn't it? Remember: Brennan is on a holiday. Don't miss her though, she'll be back. Next chapter will be posted soon. 'Till next time! x<strong>

_PS: Hey, how about that new clip released for Season 7? :D If you haven't checked it out, I recommend you do! 3 It's very warm. Cute, even. Booth is worrying about Brennan doing too much while pregant (BTW - She is very pregnant) 'Smiley face!'._


	6. Vacation Damper

The Matter to the Bones Chapter 6

**Hey all! Here's your next chapter. I'm a little bit annoyed though, because I just spent all this time going through and editing - and the bloody thing didn't save for some reason or other! Grr. I've had to go through it again, so I do apologize for any typos I made/missed. I didn't mean to! Xx G**

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><p>6. Vacation Damper<p>

'_One missed call'_

The three impertinent little words flashed annoyingly on the screen of her phone.

_Doesn't it know that I'm on a holiday? _Brennan thought irritably.

The call had been from Booth. He didn't leave a message.

Brennan discarded it as an unimportant matter, given there was no request for immediate contact upon the alert being received. Slipped her phone into the pocket of her running holder, she pulled a T-Shirt over her head.

"I'll see you later, then?" she asked her father when she was ready to go.

Max straightened his pressed shirt. "I probably won't be back tonight...so tomorrow morning? Late breakfast at ten?"

His daughter nodded.

"Where are you going?" he then asked, eyeing her sporty apparel.

"For an afternoon run. I'll see you later." She leant over and kissed him on the cheek, before taking her packed running arm-belt from the small table.

The track wasn't hard to access; it began twenty metres away from her lodge.

It was her third day at the winery, and most days she had spent reading, tasting, of even dozing occasionally. She was desperate to get outside and do something active though, so a run was the perfect solution. Head bopping, she focused on the easy tempo rhythm of her music, and after a short paced walk to warm up, she set of at a jog.

After a decent fifteen minutes of running, she was just reaching the bottom of the second little hill, when an off, familiar scent wafted through her nostrils. It was so faint, someone could have missed it. She knew what it was though.

Brennan came to a halt and moved towards the smell.

Any other person may have perhaps picked up the very subtle waft of rotting flesh, but would have discarded it as a dead animal.

She knew better though. Sliding down the slope towards the mass hidden beneath the shrubbery fifteen metres from the running track, she stopped before the human remains.

Something was wrong with the head. Weirdly, strangely wrong with it.

She needed to take a look, but had no gloves. Digging around in her bra, she retrieved an unused tissue that she had stashed in there before venturing out. Careful not to touch anything but the skull, she covered her hand in the tissue and touched the surface.

If what she thought was there, existed, then this was foul play _– even though dead body in the middle of a winery kind of hinted that_. Sure enough, her thumb discovered the odd, crushed groove in the skull.

This was murder.

She couldn't believe it; of _all_ the places. Of _all_ the times.

Discarding the soiled tissue with a huff, she retrieved her phone from the running belt and called Cam, Hacker, and very reluctantly, Booth. Although it was viable for her to return to her cabin and await the forensics from the FBI and the Jeffersonian team to arrive, she had an itch to work. Or run. Or do something other sitting around.

Was there any place where murder _didn't_ occur? Not even the place that she _holidayed_ at for three days?

Sighing, she stared down at her runners; she had come out onto this mountain track to go for a run, and that desire to exercise was still there. Calculating the time that she had before anyone would arrive, she pulled off her royal blue T-shirt and fastened it to a nearby tree.

After adjusting her black tank top and putting her earphones back in, she set off up the track at a steady pace.

-~B&B~-

The heat of the day had picked up in the last hour, and Brennan found that while she tanned in the late afternoon sun, her body wasn't as thankful for heat while she ran. Having turned around, and heading backwards now, she realised that she wasn't exactly sure where the crime scene was. Discarding the instant wave of worry, she turned her iPod up a notch and sang along in her a breathy soprano.

"_Last friday night...we went streaking in the park, skinny-dipping in the dark, then had a menage a trois...Last friday night-"_ She closed her eyes momentarily as she rounded another corner. _"-yeah I think we broke the law...always say we're gonna stop-op...whoa-oh-oah." _She opened them, and drifted off as the song moved into its second chorus.

Almost the entire forensic team watched her in bewilderment. She flushed furiously and eased herself to an even stride, before walking up to Hodgins, cheerfully greeting him.

Her friend grinned joyously upon seeing her.

"Hey hot stuff," he chuckled, "when's your _California Dreams_ tour?" Secretly he wondered what his wife would say to Brennan – of all people – showing up to a crime scene in Nike sports shorts and a close hugging tank top. Singing Katy Perry. _Katy Perry!_ Brennan didn't know who Brittany Spears was, but she knew the teen-loved pop star.

"I don't know what that means," Brennan replied candidly, shuffling awkwardly.

"Sure you don't."

She nodded her head once, clearly confused.

"Insect activity how long, Hodgins?" Cam asked from her squat beside the corpse, regarding Brennan, but skipping out on making a comment towards her appearance and entrance.

"Yeah...I'm not sure about this one." He looked irritated at being unable to give his boss the answer she wanted.

"What do you mean?" Brennan interceded before their boss could.

"Well it appears that the Vic has been deceased for maybe a couple of weeks, versus a couple of months," Hodgins told her, shrugging his shoulders, "if I am correct, this person was underground before showing up here."

"Casket?" The anthropologist was on the ball.

"Perhaps."

Cam walked over and handed Brennan a pair of disposable gloves. "Just be careful not to touch anything too much, Dr Brennan – you do have a lot of exposed skin...and..."

Much to her surprised, the gloves were returned.

"I would prefer to investigate back at the lab, Dr Saroyan. Although I can tell you that he is of a Caucasian profile, and that his age is primal. Where is Booth?"

Cam pointed to a suited back a few metres away.

Heaving a sigh, Brennan set her shoulders confidently.

"Hey," she greeted casually, tapping him on the elbow.

Booth was jotting notes onto a pocket notebook, but lifted his eyes upon her arrival. For a fleeting moment, his eyes widened and snuck a glance over her athletic form, before meeting her eyes.

She didn't miss that.

"So...ah," – Booth cleared his throat – "what have you got?"

"I haven't thoroughly examined him yet, but I can classify that he is a male Caucasian, roughly anywhere between late twenties to his early thirties. Clark will examine the bones further when they arrive back at the Jeffersonian."

"You're not coming back yet?"

"I will stay a night longer. I gather that the owner returns this evening from a business trip; I am supposed to have dinner with him."

Booth's eyebrows jutted skywards in surprise. "Is that so?"

"Yes. I am a successful author, the best forensic anthropologist that there is and quite beautiful. I am surprised that you are surprised."

Her partner stared at her with slight exasperation; how many times had he heard her _successes_ before?

Each time though, he admittedly felt a little proud of her, and that downed the partial embarrassment when she decided to speak of her qualities in public.

"Now, while this is all under control, I need to take a shower. I am exposed to this heat, and I am sweaty. I'll see you later." She touched a hand delicately to her dampened chest.

Booth nodded uneasily. "I'll stick around till our man arrives; I might need a confession or two out of him."

"Well, I could do that," Brennan offered, stretching at the elastic of her black singlet allow air to breathe. "I am going to dinner with him; I could subtly ask him a few questions..."

"Bones, you and I both know that you don't do subtle. Let's just let me take care of it, okay?"

"Or we could do it together."

Booth started.

"I mean as partners," she clarified at his stunned response, "because I am your partner, and I have also toured this place and know where everything is."

Before he could reply, she caught her iPod neatly in her hands and selected her playlist, before setting off for her cabin at a jog.

-~ B&B ~ -

Half an hour later, Brennan tousled her wet hair through her fingers, while pulling out her dark skinny-leg jeans and her favourite white cotton shirt. Deep in thought, she absently pulled on her chosen attire and utterly missed the sound of a knock on the door.

Towel around her neck, she padded into the kitchenette on bare feet to get a drink, and was visibly startled when she saw her visitor.

"Booth," she greeted him breathlessly, clutching her stomach. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you," she apologised, closing the door behind him when both were inside.

"Forgiven."

Brennan grimaced when she turned away from him. "Can I get you a drink? It is the afternoon...so I have alcohol, or if you would prefer, water and juice."

"Beer, Bones. That'd be great. Thanks." He seated himself on the armchair that overlooked the view, and was also positioned so you could watch the television, if you wanted to.

"Where's Max?" he asked, flipping through one of the styling magazines on the coffee table beside him.

"He was meeting up with friends tonight from the district - he'll be back tomorrow."

Booth nodded soundly in reply, and accepted the cold beer that Brennan handed him.

"So how is everything back home?" she asked somewhat eagerly, when she had settled with her legs stretched out on the couch.

He seemed to be distressed by her easy question. "You've been gone for three days, Bones. Hardly enough time for something to happen," he replied quickly, shifting uncomfortably.

But something _had_ happened. He may not be sharing with her, but she had wised up to his emotional habits. Not that she really blamed him for keeping it from her though; they really hadn't been 'friend' close in almost twelve months. It was killing her, metaphorically, of course.

Brennan frowned. "A lot can happen in seventy-two hours, Booth. You were kidnapped by the Gravedigger within less than a minute after I had spoken to you."

Booth was silent.

"You know...on the night of my-" she began to prompt when she didn't receive an answer from him.

"Yeah I know Bones," he snapped suddenly, interrupting her. He took a swig of his beer.

"When did you become this?" His partner demanded indignantly. "You and I? _Us?_ We used to talk about anything! Now I can't speak to you without you snapping or having a go at me."

Booth pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, frown spreading across his forehead.

"And you can't explain it," Brennan added, slightly wary.

"No, Bones, I can't explain it. But don't say that I don't talk to you about anything anymore, because I tried to talk to you, and you ignored my call. You are the one that's not _trying_ here."

"_Trying_?" Brennan responded heatedly, feeling like she had been punched in the gut. "I'm not _trying _to get along with Hannah? She ambushed me Booth. If you say that I haven't tried handle your whole relationship and to befriend this woman just because she is important to you, then clearly you haven't been paying close enough attention as you used to! I have been trying, Booth. _So hard_. You have _no_ idea how much I want this to work."

He hung his head. "I know, Bones...I-"

"Can we please just not talk about it? Please? I came here so I could get away from everything, and I don't want these past three days I have spent relaxing, wasted the moment you turn up. Just drink, and then we'll go to dinner at six."

After her request, they sat silently, both whether things would ever return to what they had been.

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><p><strong>There you go, my loyal readers! Thank you so much to all my reviewers, storyauthor favs, story/authoer alerters! It's awesome, and only makes me want to write more. I hope I still have you interested! xx**

_**SPOILER: Hannah-haters, fear no more! The story may just be turning in you favour... *evil grin***_


	7. Serves

**Hi guys - I'm sorry, I know that you all want the Hannah/Booth fight scene. It will come in its own time, I promise. But I don't want my story to be like others where everything happens _all at once_. It will come, bear with me! Chapter 8 coming on very very soon after this one. It's sounding really good. **

**Thank you for all my loyal followers and reviewers - you are amazing, and I write this for you guys **

**Xx G**

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><p>7. Serves<p>

After a very uncomfortable two hours spent watching programmes on television or reading, the two partners tidied themselves for dinner.

Brennan went to her room and tousled her hair, pinning back her fringe. She couldn't be bothered to straighten it, and was almost shocked that she had neglected to blow dry her hair earlier.

For now, her soft brown locks curled into gentle half-ringlets at the end. After applying a touch of makeup in the bathroom, she was summoned.

"It's quarter to," Booth informed her, forcing a small smile.

Nodding, Brennan stepped out into the small hallway and slipped on her black flats before reaching out for her lapis lazuli pendant with the thick gold chain.

"Could you please...?" She motioned to her bare neck.

Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, Booth collected the necklace from her dresser and gently rested it down at the base of her throat. When his hands brushed her skin, she flushed prettily.

He didn't miss that.

When it was clasped securely, his warm hands lingered a moment longer than what was probably necessary. For a long time they stared into each other's eyes, reflected in the mirror.

"Booth," Brennan whispered regretfully, the agony clear in her voice. "We should go."

He nodded understandably and stood back, giving her space.

-~B&B~-

They walked to the main homestead quietly, only with the occasional comment on the stunning scenery.

Booth observed the weather, worriedly admitting that a storm was on the way, and that the evidence could be compromised at the crime scene. Brennan hummed vague responses and stared at her feet, or the opposite direction to her companion.

Joshua Stephen Blake met them at the front door of his home, although noticeably irritated upon seeing the beautiful woman had company. Very good looking, _male _company.

"Mr Blake, I would like to introduce to you my associate Seeley Booth." Brennan smiled gracefully an extended her hand, to which was received with a feathery brush of Joshua's lips to her palm. "You wouldn't mind if he joined us, would you?" she added in question.

"Anything for you, darling."

Booth cringed. _Darling?_ He had met her twice. What right did he have to call her that?

They entered a very classically designed foyer, where they met an elegant woman who identified herself as Joshua's wife.

The dinner that they were promptly served, quarter of an hour later, proved to be just as high class as the rest of Blake Winery and Estate.

Three courses...fine dining...Booth was grateful for his suit attire. He was grateful for choosing his polished lace-up smarts, over his lesser shoes.

But the original intention behind choosing his smart shoes hadn't been to impress; at least not the wealthy property owner.

"So what is your occupation, Mr Booth?" Mrs Blake asked during their main course.

"I'm a Special Agent of the FBI."

"Is that so? Well I must say that it is quite the honour to have such a man eating with us," Blake replied, eyes solely on an unsuspecting Brennan. "What do you do?"

"Booth and I are partners – he's the cop, I'm the scientist – we solve murders," Brennan answered proudly, subconsciously patting Booth's hand. "He is the best; I am very lucky."

"Thanks Bones," Booth murmured lowly, feeling like he didn't deserve her praise.

"Sure." She offered a tentative smile.

Blake cleared his throat. "Dessert?"

The meals were finished, and Brennan stood, excusing herself to powder her nose.

Booth frowned. _She hadn't brought anything to powder her nose with._ He excused himself too, and discovered her in the small hall bathroom.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was high-toned with surprise.

"How can you powder your nose with no powder?" Booth asked quickly.

"Are we going to ask them a few questions?" Brennan asked in reply, utterly ignoring his question.

"How can we ask them a few questions when we have no idea who's missing?"

Brennan looked guilty.

"What is it?" Booth demanded, a little warily. "What do you know, that you didn't tell me?"

"I have an ID on the victim."

"You _what?_"

"I-"

"Yeah, I heard, Bones." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm your partner, and I expect you to tell me those things!"

"I know, but I thought Hacker would have-"

"Dammit Brennan."

"I'm sorry," she amended quietly. "Booth. I just didn't think about it."

He softened at her defeated apology.

"No, I'm sorry too...for ah, snapping at you. Did you want to tell me about our Vic?"

She inhaled deeply before beginning. "His name is Evan Rushmore. He is supposed to be touring in DC for a music gig. No known family. Not married. Angela was able to match his skull with a picture that the FBI had on record. As it turns out, Mr Rushmore was involved in a car accident due to intoxication. I don't know how he missed out on being punished properly, but he did lose his license."

Booth nodded thoughtfully. "So what is his connection with Blake winery...or even still..._does_ he have a connection?"

Brennan shrugged. "Anybody's guess." She fiddled with a lock of hair. "I think that it would be wise for us to return to dinner; they might become slightly suspicious," she added.

"Well that's the last thing we need," Booth agreed, opening the door. "After you, Madame."

They rejoined their hosts.

"Did you get lost, Temperance darling?"

Booth saw her shrink uncomfortably under the man's boring stare.

"With all due respect, Mr Blake, I find that name call too informal. Dr Brennan would be more appropriately suited, if you would, please." Brennan sat up even more stiffly.

"A challenge," Blake declared, leaning towards her. "I must become part of your more intimate circle."

Booth flickered a pity glance towards the bastard's lovely wife. She was pretty and young – definitely almost nine or ten years his junior. He wondered how often she was cheated on.

Jealousy boiled furiously in his stomach, as Blake leaned into a very flushed Brennan. Booth found his hand itching to strike him.

At last, dessert had been devoured, and Blake offered tea and coffee. Booth began to protest, but Brennan silenced him and accepted the invitation.

Hot beverage in hand, she glanced at him once through her lashes, before turning to Blake.

"This might seem light a random question, but my good friend Evan Rushmore has passed through here a few times – have you had him here for dinner?" she asked him nonchalantly.

For a moment, the severe change in the man's expression flickered strangely, and Brennan thought that he wasn't gong to answer.

"I met the fellow a couple of times, yes. And his wife Mary, too."

"He has a wife?" Brennan blurted before she could stop herself.

_Records held by the FBI hadn't shown of him having a wife._

The Blake's regarded her very strangely.

"Tempe and I haven't seen him in ages – he's an old friend. We heard that he was doing a gig in DC, and he'd always talked about how much he loved coming here," Booth explained quickly. "When the hell did he get hitched? Bastard never told us!" He received a grateful smile from Brennan and a sweetly-mouthed 'thank you'.

"He got married in Vegas a little while back. Apparently they've been trying to get a divorce, and she's making it real messy. I know what the bloke is going through though; tough nuts to crack, woman are."

"I disagree with that, Mr Blake." Booth's eyes hardened.

"Woman are only hard to understand if you can't handle them," Brennan supported. "Booth knows how. He is wonderful with people. He really knows how to pick them."

"So what is it you really want to talk about?" Blake asked suddenly, forthcoming. He brought his hands onto the table. "I'm a wise businessman. You don't honestly think that I wouldn't suspect you two portraying something fishy - I can read my players."

"I discovered human remains on the premises this morning," Brennan told him, in exactly the same blunt tone that he had used on her. She was _not_ going to do this man any favours. "Evidence indicates that it was a murder. You would do your best to tell us what we want to know, or this could become far more difficult than it already has to be."

Booth stared at this confident Brennan in stunned silence. He had always known that she wasn't afraid to stand up and fight, but he hadn't seen this side of her since...before his brain tumour.

Mr Blake nodded. "Then I will take the far more difficult road. I will get my lawyer to contact you."

Booth huffed an annoyed sigh; he had hoped that this man wouldn't be so tight. After all, he had been trying to get into Brennan's pants all night.

"I think that it is time for us to leave," Brennan announced, touching Booth's arm encouragingly. "Thank you very much for a beautiful dinner." She turned to her partner. "Booth?"

He nodded. "Yeah...thanks." He stood and helped Brennan to her feet. "We'll be in touch." He made sure to deliver Blake a hard stare. He didn't like him.

"Well that was a fail," Booth stated as they re-entered the foyer upon their departure. "He won't open up any time soon without a lawyer, and an army of other suits."

"It wasn't a complete loss," Brennan supplied quietly. "We did find out some very valuable information; the man was struggling to win a divorce with his Vegas wife."

"True." He swung the front door open.

They were suddenly hit by a gust of stormy wind that they had utterly missed during their dinner. Although it was only eight, the sky had blackened threateningly, and the forecast storm appeared to be making a statement; it was here.

"What did I tell you?" Booth said as they stepped outside of the warm house. "Rain. Storm."

Brennan made a short sound of disapproval before placing a foot out to walk. She was restrained by a strong arm.

"What do you think you are doing?" Booth gave her a hard stare.

"I'm going back to my lodge," she replied innocently, going to step out again.

"No, no, no. We are _not_ going out in this weather."

"Do you see any other way for us to get back?"

"_Us?_"

"With this storm Booth, I won't have you driving on the roads at night. Stay the night. We'll head back to the lodge now."

He didn't stop her. She walked straight out into the rain, set at a quickened pace.

He followed.

"Bones, this is crazy!" he shouted above the heavy volume of the storm. "And dangerous – come on, we'll find another way to get back."

"It's fine Booth; we've already started walking now."

He complied, having no other choice. He knew that she would be too stubborn to go back now. Water began to seep into his good shoes, but he tried to ignore that.

After minutes of tormented silence, and both with thoughts flying ecstatically through their minds, Booth pulled Brennan to a halt near the silhouette of her little chalet, unable to bear the emotional torment any longer.

He had to know.

"Bones, why didn't you write to me_?_"

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><p><strong>Yay!...Where do you think this is heading everyone? :O <strong>

**I'll post again soon! :D :D**

**Reviews greatly appreciated, my wonderful readers. Tell me what YOU want!**

**Xx G **


	8. Touch

_**I kept my word, readers. Within a couple of hours! But I suppose that was just me as excited to post this as you were to read it. Please enjoy - enough of my chatter.**_

**Xx _G_**

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><p>8. Touch<p>

"_Bones, this is crazy!" he shouted above the heavy volume of the storm. "And dangerous – come on, we'll find another way to get back."_

"_It's fine Booth; we've already started walking now."_

_He complied, having no other choice. He knew that she would be too stubborn to go back now. Water began to seep into his good shoes, but he tried to ignore that._

_After__ minutes of tormented silence, and both with thoughts flying ecstatically through their minds, Booth pulled Brennan to a halt near the silhouette of her little chalet, unable to bear the emotional torment any longer._

_He had to know._

"_Why didn't you write to me?"_

Brennan's body jolted in surprise, but she didn't turn. "Write when?"

"Afghanistan. You told me nearly a month ago now that you...you still have...had feelings for me. If this is true, then why didn't you write to me? Or talk...or call? Didn't I mean enough to you...?"

She turned around, hair whipping furiously in her face as the wind and rain pelted against them both. She hit him.

"Don't you _ever_ say that you don't mean anything to me!" Her voice was choked, thick with tears. She was angry, too.

"_Why?_ You hit me now, and you say that I mean something to you, but you went away! You seemed not to want us to be..." He was struggling.

"I still wanted to talk to you Booth! I wanted you in my life!"

"Why didn't you write to me, then?" Booth demanded, face taut. "Mail call? Seven months, and I never received a word!"

"I thought you didn't want me there...whe-"

"I'm sick of it, Bones! You were upset about me finding someone else...when you made no effort to stay in contact. I waited for a letter! I _waited_!"

"I...I couldn't."

"Not. _One_. Word."

"I couldn't, Booth."

"Why?"

"I couldn't tell you then-"

"_Why?_"

"Because it _hurt_, Booth. I _missed_ you. Picking up the pen and paper made me realise just how much." Her tone had risen to a shout, and she had hardly noticed.

"No," he strangled, shaking his head disbelievingly. "No."

"Yes, Booth. Going away was the worst mistake of my life. All everyone has ever done in my life...is run away. When Hannah confronted me about how I truly felt for you...I ran away. Last year? I ran. I was _so_ scared that you were going to do the same. For the first time in my life, I truly _loved_ someone, and it scared me; it scared me so much." Her broken heart shone in her eyes. She softened her tone. "I turned you away, that night in front of the Hoover, because I was so afraid of losing you. I knew that if we were together...and something broke us apart, I would lose the most important person in my life. And I...I-I'm not s-strong enough." Although instantly washed away by the rain, her tears fell, and her whole body shook with the cold.

They stood there pathetically for what felt like eternity, drenched in the rain, both shaking with the cold, and staring at their own hearts, thrown out in front of them.

Booth closed the distance between them. His hot body pressed against hers, and suddenly he had her in an iron, but gentle grip on either sides of her face.

"Why didn't you just _tell_ me?" he asked despairingly, wiping her hot tears with his thumbs, even though the gesture was useless in the pelting rain. "Why didn't you just _trust_ me?"

"I couldn't tell you. It wasn't that I didn't _trust_ you..." Brennan shook her head. "I couldn't _lose_ you. Not when I love you so much."

He couldn't believe it. But he had to. He hardly thought. He didn't _have_ to.

His soft lips met hers, and for the first time, in a long time, she invited them. Passionately.

At first their kiss was tender; a yearn for what they both wanted so much. His hands cupped her face almost delicately, and her palms rested against his hot cheeks. But then it became a recovery of all of those years spent holing it back – what they had held back since their first kiss in the rain, all those years ago.

His tongue encouraged her mouth open, and she met it eagerly with her own. His hands trailed up her back and tugged at the skin-tight wet cotton of her shirt. He urged her to the veranda of the little white weatherboard lodge.

They didn't break their embrace for a moment - not even when they both fumbled hopelessly for the handle of the door. When she succeeded, they pushed on out of the raging storm and closed the door loudly behind them.

While she was pressed up against the door, she put a hand over his mouth. He kissed it, once. Warm lips to cold skin.

"We c-can't," she said sadly, holding back more tears.

"Yes, we can. That's the beauty of it, Bones. No more Hannah. Hannah is gone." Booth's eyes were darkly passionate as they held hers. "It's only you. You and me."

He took her hand from his mouth and held it against his wildly beating heart, before leaning in and meeting her lips again.

She devoured his full lips between her own, pressed herself against him responsively, feeling like she never wanted to let go.

His suit jacket and tie were discarded in the little lounge area, shoes and socks kicked off, before Brennan slid off her flats. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, swearing that the only sound they heard besides the thrashing rain, was their heavy breathing and erratic heartbeats. Booth leaned in again and tenderly touched her mouth with his lips. Again, they kissed. Powerful and deep.

Booth ran his hand down her damp, jean-covered leg, and grasping her calf, hooked it up to his hip. She responded, and jumped up, wrapping her other leg around his waist. He backed towards the bedroom, never letting her go. At the foot of the unmade white bed, she peeled off the stiff, wet denim plastered to her legs, and in his own time, between kisses, he removed his own pants. Her skin was flushed pink with the cold, as her flat stomach revealed upon his unbuttoning of her drenched white shirt.

She leaned back into the white duvet, and he nuzzled the hollow of her clavicle, planting his wet lips where they brushed her skin. She tugged at the buttons of his shirt, and tossed it away. Hands against his supple, bare chest, she found his mouth again.

They stopped, and stared into each other's eyes for what felt like eternity.

"Not tonight," she whispered gently, touching his lips ever so lightly with the tips of her fingers. "Not now."

"Why not?"

"Not here. Not now."

Booth rolled off her and heaved a gentle sigh.

"It's not that I don't want to," she told him, still whispering ever so quietly. "I just don't want it to be like this."

"Then what do you want it to be?"

"I want you to hold me. Kiss me, and hold me."

Brennan saw something flicker behind his eyes, almost as if his heart melted at her simple request. His eyes welled.

Leaning over, Booth pressed his lips to hers for a long moment.

"I'll be right back," he told her, sliding off the bed.

His heart fluttered when she held onto his hand.

Minutes later, he returned with two logs, newspaper and matches. Quickly and efficiently, he lit a fire, and, when done, rejoined Brennan, who sat gazing at him adoringly. The room filled with heat, and soon the pair's thin layer of underwear had dried.

Booth dug the covers up and slid underneath, pulling under Brennan before cradling her in front of him. He closed his eyes contently, and ran soothing circles along her arm. She snuggled into him for a moment, before turning on her side so they faced each other, noses a centimetre apart.

"What are we going to do?" Brennan asked him, reaching up to stroke his face.

"About what?"

"About everything. About work...about Ha-"

"Nothing, Bones. Not now. For now? Just let me hold you. Sleep, and let me hold you." He leaned into her warm hand, closing his eyes.

"I love you," she whispered, as if the words she had once hardly thought anything of, were suddenly the most precious thing she had ever beheld.

"I know."

He chuckled deeply when she nipped his nose at his response.

"I love you, too," he said after another moment, voice thick and husky. He swallowed at the lump in his throat.

She kissed his cheek and leaned into him, as he encircled her in his arms.

Fire gently licking their faces, the two drifted into a warm, gentle sleep, lovingly in each other's arms. For the first time in a long time, they were peaceful. Breathtakingly peaceful.

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><p><em>Awwwww!<em>

_:')_

_Xx G_


	9. Embracing the Differences

**_Hello committed readers! I am so sorry for the delay._**

**_In between a pretty full on school week, and hockey grandfinals looming in the very near future, I have been at loss to write. __I hope you still want to follow along, and, as always, I really appreciate reviewers so much. Please don't be shy; your words of wisdom are welcomed! _**

**_Here is your next chapter guys:_**

**_Xx G_**

* * *

><p><strong>9. Embracing the Differences<strong>

She slipped out so quietly the next morning, that she had honestly thought she had escaped his uncanny senses.

His dry shirt from the previous day hung unbuttoned over her lean form, and although the cold had the opportunity to bite, she didn't feel it. The hot tea she had brewed only moments ago, radiated warmth from her fingertips to the tips of her toes.

She massaged the floral mug thoughtfully and stared out at the open space in front of her, pondering against leaving. The sky coloured in pink tones, with dashes of orange and hints of glowing reds. From an artist's perspective, it was a masterpiece. Right now though, she was sure that the most beautiful thing slept peacefully in her inviting bed.

She closed her eyes.

So silently that she started upon his warm hands touching her waist, Booth pressed up against her backside and leaned into her head.

"What are you doing out here?" he murmured, nibbling at her ear soothingly.

"I'm inside..." she replied, meaning to sound logical, but lost at his affectionate good morning.

"I meant to ask why you weren't in bed." He kissed the area just below her ear.

"Have you come to convince me to return to bed with you?" She turned around to face him, and smiled invitingly. _She wanted to_. She wanted so badly just to give in, and welcome a passionate embrace.

"Oh, I don't think I'll have to convince you." He took her cup from her hands and set it down. He locked his deep brown eyes with her bright, electric blue ones.

She pressed her own warm hand against his toned chest, resting it above his heart.

Then she remembered what she needed to do. She remembered the reason why she had escaped bed early and decided not to stay in his arms.

"Booth...I can't do this," she sighed eventually, holding his eyes.

All at once, he looked crushed. Broken. Their moment was gone.

"What...what do you mean that you can't..." His face was rigid with torment.

"I...I'm still upset with you. You still have a girlfriend. You don't want to talk about the status of the relationship with your girlfriend. And I...I know that I have cheated in the past...but I can't live like that. I can't be second best-"

"Bones," he interrupted her, eyes hard. "I told you that you're the only one."

"But that could just be figure of speech. If you really mean that she is gone...then tell me. And even if she has only just gone...you have only just broken up with her, and I can't risk-"

"Bones. For crying out loud; I ended things with Hannah. Gone. Done. Dusted."

Brennan looked at him despairingly. "What if you change you mind? What if you go back to her...?" She trailed off upon him shaking his head.

"I caught her going through my memory box! She was looking for evidence that I was still in love with you."

"And..."

"And she found it. It was there. I suppose I could feel a bit guilty about being in love with you while I was with her, when I subconsciously knew it all along – but I was more hurt by the fact that she would betray my confidence in her so badly by abusing my boundaries. Not only that, but the way that she tried to pry her way between us; be the wedge. Bones...I couldn't live like that. That wasn't love. Our spark had begun to die out well and truly before you confessed that you still had feelings for me. But even then, I was too much of a coward to admit my feelings, because I was so afraid of losing yet another person – _another chance_ - and not have you there for me when I did."

Brennan hung her head at his full explanation. "I'm sorry. I'm scared..." she said after a moment, voicing her worries. "And angry. I don't know what to feel. Tell me what to do."

He interrupted her with a gentle press to her lips with his own – a reassurance. Brennan stared at him another long moment, before almost surprising him with a passionate embrace. She wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face in his warm shoulder. He stroked her hair tenderly, and she parted her lips and brushed them against his warm skin.

"No problem is too big, Bones. We'll figure it all out. Each in its own time."

Brennan sighed sadly. "Well that's my problem," she mumbled against his skin. "Part of me still wants to be annoyed with you, but that is absolutely dampened by this...other side. I just...I can't do it yet. And I know that you can't do it either. Please, don't hate me for this."

She could feel him begin to pull away, and for the first time, she felt her heart thunder in panic, desperate not to let him go.

"But I don't want to let you go," she blurted suddenly in a hoarse murmur, utterly out of her character. She grasped his back tighter, fingers kneading the tone muscles that the clutched.

Almost as if responding to the wild current vibrating between them, he hugged her even more tightly in return.

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

He wasn't sure what to do. Neither was she.

She packed her bag soundlessly, whipping clothes into neatly folded piles, and huffing small sounds of irritation when she realised that she was missing something.

He showered, ran a towel over his hair, and slipped on his fire-dried suit pants from yesterday. Brennan brought him his shoes in one hand, and a pair of socks in the other.

"Wear a pair of mine," she told him quietly when he had accepted her grey socks. "They're clean."

He smiled gratefully, before lacing up his shoes over his woollen-covered feet. Although his shoes were slightly dampened still, they weren't a hassle. He could change them when he arrived home.

"Any updates on the case?" he asked, when her BlackBerry buzzed.

"I think that Cam's a bit annoyed that I didn't return to the lab yesterday, given that was one of the requests upon my leaving. She wants to know whether we found anything out last night."

"Which we did."

"And she also wants to know when we'll be returning."

"Which we will."

"Okay."

"Okay." Her nonchalant reply had slightly irritated him.

Brennan dropped her phone on the bed. "Booth..."

"And _nothing_ Bones. C'mon, we should get back."

She nodded. "Give me a moment." She ducked into the bathroom.

After changing into clean underwear, she gathered her toiletries bag and re-entered the bedroom, Booth's shirt in hand.

Ignoring the fact that she stood only in her underwear, she crossed the room and passed him his shirt.

"Bones..." he stumbled, trying to keep his eyes on her face.

She looked up at him earnestly.

"You need to...ah...if we're going to not...you need to..." he desperately struggled, lost for words. "Clothes..."

Frowning slightly, she stepped away. She pulled her clean jeans off the bed, and wiggled her way into them. Fastening the button, she reached out for her blue blouse.

"Have you got everything?" she asked, giving him a diversion.

"Well, I didn't bring anything else."

"Your blazer?"

"Kitchen table."

"Car?"

"Five minute walk. Restaurant car park."

"Right." Brennan nodded, having pulled her buttonless blouse over her head, and now reaching for the strings to tie it up.

"Here," Booth offered quickly, "let me." He reached over, and efficiently tied the ribbon strings into a bow.

Her lips curved upwards as he lifted her suitcase off the bed.

"Have _you _got everything?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes._"

"Okay." Booth grinned, amused by her slightly expressed exasperation. "Let's go."

**- ~B&B~-**

"So how did Max take it?" Booth asked after they had been on the road for about fifteen minutes.

"Take what?"

"You know...finding out that he has a bachelor's pad and car, all to himself for a couple more days?"

Brennan smiled and sighed. "I didn't really give him much of a choice for otherwise. He understood though, and he also understood that my car had to return in prime condition."

Booth chuckled. "Yeah, I heard you lecturing him on that. Lecture by daughter; I can imagine his expression."

They drifted into silence, and Brennan couldn't prevent her soft smile from fading.

"Is this real?" she asked, in the same quiet tone she had used almost a week ago. "What's happening to us?"

Booth frowned, heart thumping fearfully at her doubtful sentence. "What do you mean?"

"Well we can't just jump into things," Brennan explained. "Last night was all...fireworks. We confessed claims of love, when we really haven't figured anything out-" She cut off as Booth pulled over to the side of the quiet road. "What are you doing?" she then asked, on tenterhooks.

"Last night was special, Bones. It felt right," he told her surely, feeling the flush of temperature in his cheeks as he spoke.

"But it shouldn't have been." She looked pained.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm worried Booth," she told him, eyes careful, guarded. "You and I haven't been the friends that we used to be, for months now. You claim to have stepped out of a relationship with Hannah. You and I both know that you didn't just leave her for me."

"That's right. I didn't just leave Hannah for you."

She was taken back at his blunt response. She had expected a defence, or at least otherwise. Not agreement or confirmation.

"I left Hannah for me," he clarified, seeing her stunned person. "And I know that things haven't been great between us for long while. Would it make you feel better if we tried to get our friendship back on track before...anything else?"

She nodded. "Y-yes."

Suddenly, he reached out and brushed the length of her cheek with his fingers, before cupping the side of her face in that same, warm hand.

"I know that you're scared," he whispered hoarsely, "and I know that I've hurt you, and that I have lost your trust."

She closed her eyes and leant into the groove of his hand, fighting the moisture that stung behind her eyelids.

"But I promise you," he continued, in the same, thick, weighted tone. "I will earn your forgiveness. Even though I don't deserve it." He encouraged her eyes open with the thumb of his free hand. His throat ached upon seeing the unshed tear in her eyes. "I promise."

He leaned in towards her, and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I promise," he repeated, as she rested her cheek against his.

* * *

><p><em>Chapter nine - I really hope it wasn't a disappointment. More is coming: more talk. Heartfelt. All the missed words that these two haven't had for a long time. And, Hannah closure, dearest readers. You have been patient - and you won't have to wait much longer.<em>

_Thank you so much to all who have followed me, and read. Alerts, favourites - you have been really generous!_

_Please let me know what you think._

_XxG_


	10. Little Details

_Hello my amazing readers x_

_Here is the next chapter (**NB:** It is a split of one big chapter - originally Chapter 11 was a part of it too, but I thought that the chapter would have been too big, and would have dragged on) You will get the next chapter once editing has progressed xx._

_I'm a little discouraged though: I was flipping through the story archives - (as you do) only to discover that a writer named **slcswimmer14, **published a story yesterday (12/09/2011), and in it,copied my scene from chapter 8, when Booth and Brennan fight in the rain, at the winery. ? I'm a bit hurt. Why anyone would copy the work of a school student is beneath me. ? _

_Anyway, thank you all of those who support my work; this is still my first fanfic, and you have all been so supportive with your kind words. favourites and alerts! _

_Xx G_

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><p>10. Little Details<p>

Brennan let herself onto the platform with a swift swipe of her card.

"Dr Brennan," Clarke nodded his head upon seeing his mentor. "We haven't made any other prominent discoveries apart from the obvious head wound. I am-"

"It's alright, Clarke," Brennan assured her worried student, cutting off what sounded like a rushed apology. Pulling on a pair of disposable gloves, she moved to the slab. "It's only been a night, and I should have been here to help you. Have you found anything else, though?"

Clarke, surprised by the usually abrasive - but today patient - Dr Brennan, could only manage a slight nod.

"What did you find?" she encouraged, motioning with her hand for him to share. Her student picked up a tibia and began to explain the childhood trauma apparent in an old healing.

Hodgins, whom had witnessed Brennan's entrance from his position in the corner, tried to tame his eyebrows from their skywards position.

"I have some particulates that Clarke found...I need to analyse them. I'll be back with results," Hodgins then announced, nodding his head once Clarke's direction.

Brennan expressed no issue with that.

The ecstatic man very nearly skipped to his wife's office.

"Have you seen Brennan this morning?" he exclaimed breathlessly to his love, who was punching numbers into a program.

Angela looked up. "Bren is back?"

"Ye-heah...You should go and see her. Something has happened." Hodgins inhaled, exhaled.

His wife furrowed her brows worriedly. "What's the matter? Is she okay?"

Hodgins shrugged. "N-nothing is _wrong_..."

"Honey...you're confusing me."

"It's okay...it's nothing bad. Just talk to her; I can't."

Angela sat down he touch pad and strode past him, all the while giving him a strange glance, a certain matter of urgency probing at her.

After clarifying with all the found evidence, Brennan collected her notes and started off to her office to record them digitally. She started when she entered, upon seeing Angela sitting expectantly in her guest chair, arms folded over her baby-torso.

"Bren."

"Nice to see you too, Ange," Brennan chuckled, setting down her notes. "What do you want?"

"Can't we have chats anymore?" Angela seemed offended.

Her friend shrugged. "Of course we can have _'chats'_...it's just that, you have that look on your face."

"What look?" she asked, standing up, then, adding as an afterthought, she said permissibly, "since when do you read 'looks'?"

"Since now. I am getting better."

Angela laughed. "Alright. Fine. What happened yesterday? You didn't come home."

"Ange-"

"_Je veux savoir," _Angela purred " I want to know."

Brennan shook her head, but not as a refusal. She had to smile at her friend's effort to use French with her.

"Angela."

"Yes."

"You know that I love you. Like a sister."

"Yes?"

"I can't...I won't really tell you anything that I feel I shouldn't, because that could be breaching his confidence in me, and things are that far along-"

"Oh. My god!" her best friend interrupted, ignoring the slight scowl she received. "You slept with him? Sweetie, that's amazing-"

In turn, Brennan interrupted her friend. "I didn't sleep with him."

The artist's pretty face fell. "Oh."

"Although he wanted to," Brennan revealed, a small smile creeping at the corners of her mouth. "I wanted to. But I told him that it wasn't the right place or time." Her face lost the hint of a smile, and it was replaced with a deep, calm restraint.

"When was this?"

"When the storm had started. Around eight or nine. We fought, in the rain." Brennan's eyes glazed over.

"Then what happened?" Angela gasped, still trying to grasp the concept of the two fighting in the rain. The sexual tension. The heated retorts. It would have made an epic movie scene.

"He kissed me. I kissed him back." Brennan blushed and dipped her head.

Angela gaped openly.

"You don't have to say anymore, sweetie, even though I would love to hear more," she told her friend, who was so clearly flushing at the very memory of moments that she, Angela, knew she would never hear. But that was alright. "Did it feel right, though?" she asked in addition, already knowing the answer, but also aware that it would help Brennan, if she confirmed it aloud herself.

"Yes. I mean, there are still complications and things that need to be discussed and visited...but it felt correct. I woke up next someone before they ran away, or I did. I just wish that I had stayed in bed long enough for him to wake up with me in his arms."

"Don't worry," Angela breathed, grasping Brennan's hand and giving it a supportive squeeze. "There will be plenty of those. I promise you; you have all the time in the world."

Although a logical answer crept into her mind about how much time she theoretically had, Brennan mouthed a thankyou to her friend, and embraced her instead.

-~B&B~-

Brennan woke the next morning, feeling the loss of not having his strong arms around her. For a moment longer, she pinched her eyes closed and imagined. Dreamed. He was with her, securely holding her in place, and settling her wildly thrashing heart with the consistent, steady beat of his own. His body heat sent a flush through her entire being.

She became lost in the not-so-alternate-reality, but was pulled away by the angry snooze alarm. Huffing, she stumbled out of bed and slipped under the shower briefly, hastily washing her hair, leaving conditioner a minute lesser than usual, and then rinsing that out too.

Ten minutes later, upon stepping out of the shower and drying herself, she twirled a towel around her hair, put on underwear for the day, and added her white bath robe in addition. It saw fit as the perfect breakfast apparel.

While the tea brew settled in its glass kettle, she sought about in her cupboard for her muesli. Upon finding it, she added her milk, and guiltily, a teaspoon of raw sugar. Feeling like she had committed the biggest crime in the world, she sheepishly shovelled in mouthfuls of her sweetened cereal preference between sips of tea. Emptying her bowl, running it under the tap, and stowing it an the spoon in her dishwasher, she left her tea on the bench and disappeared to her walk-in robe, dressing in a cooler apparel, given that the day was going to be an even temperature. Staring pitifully at her near-full tea cup when she returned, Brennan took another gulp and discarded the remnants down the sink, just as a loud knock sounded on the door.

Walking over to the entrance - silently cursing for not having brushed her teeth yet - she opened it swiftly upon reaching it.

"Hey Bones," Booth greeted brightly, stepping past her.

"Good morning Booth," she said in reply, closing the door behind them and following him to the kitchen bench.

"Why so formal?" he asked suddenly, setting down a paper bag.

"I...never mind." She stared into the depths of his eyes. Hardly thinking, she crossed the distance between them and met his mouth with parted lips. Although this clearly hadn't been the reply that he had expected, she felt him smile beneath her own mouth, and they relaxed against each other for a split moment, before Brennan abruptly pulled away.

"I haven't brushed my teeth," she quickly explained, covering her mouth in embarrassment. "I'm sorry." She silently wondered whether he would grasp that she was sorry about kissing him so suddenly, or self conscious about her unwashed mouth.

"Didn't seem to bother me any," he answered, grinning. Stepping back, and opening the paper bag, he looked up for a moment. "What happened to taking things slowly?"

"I'm sorry that I overstepped the reasonable boundaries, but the decision I made yesterday, was yesterday. I do stand by it, but..."

"But what...? What has changed?" Although his question was probably meant to sound serious, his eyes portrayed his light mood. He dropped his hands from the bag, and they hung by his sides.

"Yesterday I didn't wake up alone." She shuffled on her feet, but didn't look down at them.

"Didn't you like it?" he asked tenderly, brushing the length of her face, as he had done the day before in the car. He had stepped closer again, and his presence was overpowering. "Didn't you like waking up alone?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes, biting down on a grin. She felt his warm lips press against her cheek, and her heart fluttered at hummingbird speed. She was sure that he had heard it.

Almost as if he could read her thoughts – _though that notion was impossible_, _she reminded herself_ – he chuckled, and throatily murmured, "I might not be able to read your mind, but I can read your pulse." He kissed her cheek again, lingering.

She sighed very heavily. "Okay, stop. Really." Almost giggling, she pushed him away. "I have to brush my teeth. We can't do this. It's bad."

Booth lifted his shoulders incredulously. "It's not bad at all. It's perfectly normal."

"No, it's not. Friends first, remember?"

"You kissed me first. You started it." He took another step back. "I will honour your request, though."

Brennan looked at him a moment, mouth twisted as she tried to hold in a smile, before walking swiftly to her room. When she came back, mouth freshened and sweet, she discovered him eating a egg and bacon muffin one-handed, with a coffee in the other.

"I got one for you too," he told her between mouthfuls.

"Booth, that's sweet, but you know that I don't eat-"

"I meant the coffee, Bones." He beamed. "No sugar. Latte. Just the way you like it. I figured that you would have already had a muesli of some sort."

Brennan looked culpable as she took one of the disposable cups, and pressed her lips to the white lid thoughtfully.

"What's that look for?" he asked, not missing a thing.

"I have a confession."

He face dropped. She sounded horribly guilty. _What was it?_

"I put sugar on my breakfast this morning," Brennan confessed hastily, looking away. "There. I said it. I won't do it again."

Booth snorted.

She looked at him, stunned. "Why are you laughing?"

He couldn't steady his laughs; she looked so seriously guilty, and now, surprised. The facial expression was hilarious.

"B-Bones," he gasped, setting down his breakfast. "Y-you. Wow. Ha."

Brennan frowned. "You're not making any sense."

The hand that he had had clasped around his warm coffee cup, reached out and gently smoothed her frown line.

"I missed this," he said, with an even quieter tone.

"What is 'this'?"

"Everything. You. Us."

She smiled at his simple answer, and sipped her coffee. "I did too."

* * *

><p><em>:) Xx<em>

_Next chapter soon: pinky-promise!_

_Thank you, readers, again, for your reviews - I love reveiving them, and you encourage me to keep on writing. Support does the world of wonders._


	11. Settling Scales

_**Hello readers! I apologize for the delay, when I promised you it would be up sooner than my last post. I couldn't seem to find the time.**_

_**Good news? My team won our hockey grandfinal, so I can rest easy until my horse comp this weekend! Argh! Anyway, here you go guys -**_

_**Xx G**_

_**(Thank you to my wonderful reviewers - happy comments make my day :D Thank you as well to all those who favourite and alert - it's great to know you like the story!)**_

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><p><strong>11. Settling Scales<strong>

Although their week had started out in a light blissful mood, it had darkened on the Friday afternoon, later that week, when Brennan had gone to Booth's apartment to compare notes with him, and Hannah had been there.

Her immediate reaction had been to turn and flee, but the anger and defensiveness had boiled so furiously in her stomach, that she found herself entering the apartment as confidently as she knew how.

"Temperance." Hannah's civil voice rested unevenly in the atmosphere.

"Hello Hannah," Brennan replied, as politely as she could manage, obvious to Booth's tension. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm about to be stationed out to a reporting site overseas again, and I just came to see Seeley before I go." The uninvited guest tucked a lock of stray blond hair behind her ear, and adjusted her satchel on her shoulder.

Brennan's eyes tightened; she hoped that Hannah's flight was scheduled earlier to leave, and then suffered difficulties mid-air, before plummeting into the ocean.

Her face flickered deviously at the notion, before moral thought overcame her, and she inwardly scolded herself for imagining such horrible things.

"Anyway...I was just going." Hannah put a hand on Booth's arm, which he, to Brennan's delight, shook off.

"Goodbye, Hannah," he said slowly, precisely.

_I won, I won, I won, I won,_ the little persistent voice chanted victoriously in Brennan's mind, as Hannah let the rejection from them both settle in.

She got the point, nodded once in Brennan's direction, and departed.

When Brennan was sure she was out of earshot, she turned to Booth.

"How long was she here?"

"Not long, Bones."

"Truthfully?"

Booth nodded.

"What did she want?" Brennan crossed her arms and bit her lip, not sure whether she really wanted an answer.

"To make amends."

"And?"

"I told her that I would probably never forgive her. I told her to have a great life, living on the edge. Being in the thrills. Sleeping with unsuspecting men. Yadda, yadda."

Brennan heaved a sigh. "Alright. Okay. Well, I should really get back to the lab."

"But we have to compare notes...?"

"We'll do it later."

"Yeah right."

"Please don't, Booth." She sat down the files on his coffee table. "I have to go. I'll let you know if there is any progress or immediate, valid information."

She grimaced shortly, and left.

**-~B&B~-**

There weren't any new improvements.

Friday had passed. Saturday. A very long Sunday.

Monday morning arrived, and Brennan hadn't yet finished her Sunday night. Yet another all-nighter. She had scarcely slept all weekend.

Booth had called. Numerous times. She had resulted to texting him. Vague, short messages that screamed awkward subtext.

The majority of them were along the lines of:

_Bones - we need to talk. _

_Please. Let me know how you are._

_Is everything alright with the case? _

_You need to keep me in the loop. B_

She would text back:

_All is well. I said I would _

_let you know if anything came up. B_

She was frustrated with herself, more than anything, for not knowing what to do in the situation. She wanted to talk to him again, but after her infantile response to Hannah's brief reappearance, she wasn't sure that her partner wanted to see her anyway.

Eyes drooping so heavily she could hardly keep them open, Brennan trudged from the Bone Room to her office, and plunked down in her office chair, cradling her throbbing head in her hands. This is what she had feared; entering some form of amorous relationship with Booth, having a disagreement, or allowing something to come between them - and then suddenly taking two pirate-sized jumps back, premature to the starting line, and leaving the treasure behind.

Lost exhaustedly in her train of thoughts, but attentive with her senses, a few minutes of contemplative silence passed before she registered a quiet knock on the door.

"Bones?"

Brennan sighed, and looked up. "Hey, Booth."

He took one look at her, and swiftly made his way over, leaning close to her, and pressing a thumb to the rings that shaded below her eyes.

"You haven't slept?" he asked her, almost angrily. More so, he was worried.

"I couldn't sleep. I had too much to think about. This case isn't progressive, and I keep on replaying Friday night in my mind," she sighed. "I keep wishing that I had just...I don't know. I can't rationalise any thought...on anything."

He could tell that she was exhausted. Her usually rational, organised sentences were distorted, and not only that, but he sensed emotional defeat, too. Stepping closer again, he rested a hand on one of her shoulders. "Let me take you home."

"And then you kept on calling," she continued jadedly, as if he hadn't spoken. "I kept cowering behind text messages, because I don't know how to break stalemates, and now you're being towards me and-"

"Bones."

"Hmm?"

"Shh."

"Okay." She nodded tiredly, and leant back into her chair. "I'm sorry. I'm horrible at this."

"No, you're not. You're just dealing with this in your own way."

"My own way is ludicrous. How can you so sanely stand here and tell me that I am doing this correctly?"

"I can stand here and be sane because I _know_ you. I know that, whichever way you choose to deal with our relationship, I will, as patiently as I can, respect that, and let you have your head. It has been a week, Bones. I don't expect you to have everything mapped out after such a short time, and I do not expect you to forgive me for anything in the blink of an eye, okay?"

"I find your answer to be reassuring."

"That's because it is."

She offered a small, weak smile.

"Now," he said, stepping back. "You are going to gather up your things, and I am going to take you home. This is a dead case, so I'm sure that the corpse won't mind if you leave."

She began to tell him how the remains weren't a corpse, given their state of decomp. Thought better of it.

Silently, she stowed her laptop away in its bag, gathered a few bits and pieces, and lastly, picked up her handbag and coat. They exited the building and found Booth's SUV in the lot. It was a ten minute drive back to Brennan's apartment - or longer depending on the traffic - so neither were in any real rush. The days were slow, at present. Time wasn't a perogative.

Brennan, after allowing Booth to take her things and put them in the back, took the passenger seat and laid her head back, eyes drifting to a close. She had slipped into a snooze before they had pulled out.

**-~B&B~-**

He flickered glances over to her inert form, thinking that, if it hadn't been for the steady rise and fall of her breast, he would have thought her to be utterly unconscious. Small, dark bruises tainted the hollows of her eyes, and her usually pinkly flushed cheeks were pale and drawn, expressing her exhaustion and vulnerability.

She looked so worn out.

He mentally kicked himself for allowing her to collapse into that.

When he pulled into the underground car park at Bones' apartment building complex, he regretted having to wake her. All it took was a soft brush against her face with his fingers, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Home," he murmured, reaching over the back seat and collecting her bags. "Let's get you inside."

She complied, opening her passenger door before he could, and stumbling out. He caught her after two staggering steps.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, straightening her shirt. "I'm sorry for falling over you."

"S'okay." He released his grasp of her form, but held her elbow as additional guiding support, knowing that although she wouldn't admit it, she probably needed it.

Upon reaching her apartment door, Bones patted around and fumbled for her keys. Booth had found them in the front flap of her handbag, and eased them into the lock while she still looked. He footed the door, and it swung open.

Bones looked up from her searching, and her eyebrows lifted simultaneously at the open entryway.

"Okay," she whispered, entering, and heading straight for her bedroom. "I'm going to have a shower," she told him over her shoulder, without turning. "Make yourself at home."

Booth closed the door, flipped the lock for her peace of mind, and settled down her bags on the armchair, before entering her kitchen. Despite not having been in her apartment at all, really, in the past twelve months, her knew where everything was. He had spent a lot of time here once. While she showered, he had no trouble sourcing two glasses, and taking out a pitcher of water from the fridge. When the two glasses were poured, he took both in each hand and settled down in her lounge area.

Bones' lounge had hardly changed since he had met her, although she occasionally had her furniture recovered every few years or so, just to keep them clean and fresh looking.

The owner of the classic, elegant furniture appeared herself, not long after. Dressed in black leggings and a cream windcheater, she already looked more comfortable than he rarely ever saw her. Padding on bare feet, she smiled weakly at him and went over to a washing basket on her table, taking out a pair of white socks. She pulled them over her full length leggings, past her ankles.

"How are you feeling?" Booth asked when she sat down on the couch and took one of the glasses.

She took a long, deep mouthful. Swallowed.

"Horrible," she answered, setting down the now one-third-full glass. "I have been better, but I feel pretty ordinary."

"You need to go to bed."

"I do."

"So...?"

"So I can't sleep. That's what is stopping me, if that is what you are asking."

"You're over-exhausted. I know you don't feel like sleeping, but when your head hits the pillow, you will."

Sighing, she shrugged. "I know. I'll go."

"Do you want me to read you a story?" he asked her, hint of a mimic in his tone.

Again, she gave him the weak smile. "Not a story...but perhaps we could talk?" she suggested hopefully.

He nodded, removing his blazer and gun. "Go snuggle down; I'll be there in a moment."

She turned and departed. He picked up the two glasses, spilled the remnants down the sink, and tipped the cups upside down, leaving them in there to deal with later. When he reached her bedroom, she was already under her covers, and propped up against the fluffy white pillows. He yearned to lean against them as she did; they looked so comfortable. His back would appreciate it. Instead though, he sat on the edge of the bed, ankles crossed.

"I am not sick, Booth," she said thickly, "you don't have to sit so far away... Not unless you want to."

Hesitating a moment, he gave her a kind smile before kicking off his shoes and scrambling up next to her.

His heart flickered sumptuously as she rested her head against his arm.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked her, trying to keep the ecstatic emotion out of his voice.

"You won't be angry?"

"Well, you haven't asked...it depends what you want to know-" he broke off, realising.

_Hannah. _

"Your fight with Hannah." She sounded careful, but sure.

Air hitched in his throat.

"I know you don't want to talk about it," she said softly, "and I don't want to hurt you by bringing it up, if that it the case. But for us to make this work, we need to be on the same page." She yawned.

He looked down, to see her looking at him with wide eyes. Wide, caring, loving eyes.

His Bones.

"Okay," he whispered.

**-~B&B~-**

"_What do you think you're doing?" Booth demanded, face tight. He knew that she saw the hurt in his eyes the moment she looked._

_Ignoring her guilty, yet somehow apologetic face, he stared despairingly at his memory box, which was scattered out in front of them. It was almost as if it were his heart laying there in sprinkled pieces, bared for her to see. _

_The photos, the notes. Old tickets from hockey and baseball games. Past times. Memories._

"_I told you to never touch that," he said coldly, glaring at her. "What gives you any right, when I told you not to? I made it pretty damn-well clear that you weren't to touch it."_

"_Seeley-" Hannah put a hand on her hip, and wiped her forehead with the other._

"_How dare you."_

"_Seeley-"_

"_Don't defend yourself, Hannah! I don't know what you're looking for, but if it's answers, then you come to _me,_ and ask me; don't snoop around. Especially not in _my_ memory box. None of this obsessed reporter crap, Hannah. What the hell were you looking for?"_

"_What do you think, Seeley?" she exploded in reply. "That I wanted to check up on your past? No. That I wanted to learn more about you? Geez, I'm not that committed. I was 'snooping around' for something - something you would never tell me to my face. Something that, no matter how much you pledge your love, honesty and loyalty to me, you would never share. Think about it. Think about it _really_ hard."_

"_Bones."_

"_Oh, the elephant in the room lets out a mighty roar!" _

"_Don't you dare use sarcasm with me. You're the one in the wrong here."_

"_Am I? Because you are the one who hasn't been honest."_

"_You are at fault, Hannah. I can understand you need to know the truth, and why you felt like you had to know. I respect that you wanted to know. What I can't respect, and what makes me sick, is that, even though we were fighting, you still abused my trust like this."_

"_Oh, for god's sakes, Seeley Booth. It's just a stupid box."_

_Booth's eyes welled. "It's not just a stupid box, Hannah. That is my life story in there. Do you think I'm stupid?"_

"_That's not what I meant-" she desperately tried to cover up, once her words had been bitterly spat out._

"_Stop, Hannah."_

"_No, you stop. Stop saying my name over and over again like I'm some retarded three year old. Stop it. You have another tongue lashing left on your cards, I can tell, so spit it out."_

_Booth stared at her furiously. Paused. Debated. Spoke. "I can't do this. Not with you. I'm tired of playing this game with you. I'm through."_

"_You're breaking up with me?" She stared at him disbelievingly._

"_Yeah, Hannah, I am." He ran a tensed hand through his hair. "I mean, did you really expect anything else? If I hadn't found you tonight, you would have never told me about this, and we would have been living a lie. And I'm not doing that. I don't want to be with you, and I'm angry that I was such a poor judge of your character. I'm breaking up with you."_

_Hannah glared. "It's because of Temperance, isn't it?"_

"_No, it's not because of Bones. This isn't about her. This is about us; we're not working."_

"_Oh, god. I'm not stupid, Booth! You wanna know what I was looking for? Proof. And I found it." She ducked down a moment, and stood up again, black memory stick in hand. "This explained everything." She tossed it at him._

_He stared at the black device for a long moment. His eyes met hers, and she caught her breath._

"_I think you should leave."_

_His simple request was heeded._

"_How long will you give me to get my things and leave?"_

"_How ever long you think is strictly necessary; you don't have a lot of stuff, remember?"_

"_That's right," she laughed bitterly, pushing past him. "Because I'm the nomad."_

_Silent for a moment, he decided that, although he was furious with her, she didn't need to leave at this hour. She hadn't slept, and a small part of him was still worried for her. They had after all, been together for months until a few seconds ago._

"_It's late Hannah; don't leave right now. Sleep on the couch, and leave in the morning when you have a clear head and can pack."_

"_I don't care what time it is. You want me gone, and I don't want to stay here another moment with you...win, win."_

"_What about all of your washing?"_

"_Done it. I suppose you could almost call it an advantage to being stranded in an apartment all day, with no stories to report. You get all of your laundry done, with time on your hands."_

_Again, the bitter tone._

_He hated it._

_She was the one that had screwed up._

_Silently, he leant against his kitchen counter, taking long sips of water from a glass. She moved about with rushed, livid movements, picking up her belongings that lay across his apartment._

_It took her all of thirty minutes to pack up her life. She was thorough, and he seemed to gather that she had been very careful not to leave anything behind. With so much as a grimace in his direction, and a nod, she stomped out, dragging her bags behind her._

_Regardless of the hour, she slammed his door with shuddering force._

_Booth knelt and picked up the pieces of his life, that lay across the floor. Eventually, sure that everything in the box, he sat it on the table, and_ sank down to his couch, allowing the shock to finally set in. __

_At a stage, not too long ago, he had actually considered spending the rest of his life with this woman. He had defended her, and pledged his love to her. He had brushed aside his friends for this woman, whom he had allowed himself to love. __What had she really given in return? She hadn't wanted to be in his life, really. Not permanently, anyway._

_With a cold shudder, he wondered if, all along, he had loved her...but hadn't been _in love_ with her. _

_Yes._

_His heart had always belonged to someone else._

_As much as he tried to avoid the notion, after it had been crushed over a year ago, he couldn't shake the nagging sensation that his most valuable playing card in the situation would have been _time_. _

_He should have given her time. _

_Temperence Brennan. __She, of all people, who was as immoveable as the Great pyramid of Giza, had been asked to consider one of the greatest changes life could offer, and he had only given her so few moments to adjust. She, who needed to be encouraged into something gently, had been asked to reassemble her life in the space of a few seconds._

_He should have told her, when she told him that she couldn't change...that she didn't have to. That he accepted her for all the good and the bad. That, if it took years, he would wait for her. He should have told her those things, and then he should have kissed her again. __But instead, he retreated even more quickly than she did, cowering as he licked his wounds._

_Time._

_Fate._

_She didn't believe in it, but he did. He should have given her the former, and allowed the latter to take its place when it felt suit._

_Now, striking his fist into the armrest of his couch, he rose to his feet and took his bottle of scotch. Discarding the lid, his closed his lips around it, and took a swig._

_The alcohol relaxed his excitable nerves and boiling blood._

_Taking a deep breath, a took another swig. _

_Another._

_-B-_

_Waking the next morning, with a heavy headache, the events of the previous night, or very early morning, replayed in his mind._

_Hannah leaving._

_His regrets for Bones. __He needed to talk to her._

_Would she want to talk to him?_

_Staggering to his bedroom, he retrieved his phone from his beside table, and hit the number one on speed dial._

'Dialling BONES...'_ the small screen read, almost as if it were teasing him._

_His heart skipped a beat, but after the fifth unanswered ring, he disconnected._

_Did he have the right to talk to her?_

_He left the phone on the bed, and headed for the shower, desperate to shake of the emotional aches, present from the previous day. From the previous months. From the past year and a half._

_It was a new twenty-four hours, from this moment on. New day. A new week._

_Today, he would try and turn things onto a righteous path._

**-~B&B~-**

Drawing to the close of his recount, he stared down at the woman in his arms. She clung to the tightly wound muscles of his forearm, fingers curled like a child's, lips pouted, but curved into a peaceful smile.

He wondered how long she had been asleep for.

Knowing that he had to return to his office, he unwillingly detached himself from his sleeping partner, ever so careful when he replaced his body with one of the pillows he had leant against. She murmured a small sigh, and stirred, but she didn't wake.

After collecting his belongings, he departed her apartment silently, a small smile playing at his lips.

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><p><strong>Does that answer any questions? Any closure? I hope so. There is more to come, so for those who are welcoming it with open arms, I will really try not to disappoint you. Please, if you have any suggestions, I really do like hearing them, because while I am the author, you are the readers, so however you would really like this to pan out, don't be shy and let me know. <strong>

**I'll update as soon as I can - :) **

**Thank you, everyone!**

**Xx G**


	12. Allowing Adjustments

**Hi Guys! Amazing readers! So sorry about the _massive_ break - I was away from home for the past week, so no internet. However, I did have my laptop, and got about five chapters done.**

**You bet. Gonna post 'em all!**

**Thank you to dedicated reviewers - especially **_**alexindigo** -_** thank you so much for your support and words!**

**Enjoy!**

**Xx G**

* * *

><p><strong>12. Allowing Adjustments<strong>

Brennan woke up late into the afternoon, feeling like she had slept a hundred years. Though she knew that he would have left hours ago, she had hoped that Booth would have been there when she was roused from her deep slumber.

Turning her head into the pillow she cuddled, she realised that his scent was still evident in its soft cover. Small favours. That settled her slight agitation at his physical absence. The afternoon sun formed patterns on her duvet where it streamed past spots in her blinds. Booth had drawn the curtains for her.

She felt a wave of gratitude at the small gesture. He knew that she had trouble sleeping in light, and although, to anyone else, the simple action of closing the blinds might have seemed meaningless, it wasn't that way to her. She wasn't used to having someone take care of her; she took care of herself. It was a nice feeling – having someone care for you.

Casually checking her phone for any updates on the case, she started when she remembered a vague image of Booth telling her that he tried to call her the morning that he had broken up with Hannah.

She remembered reading the screen - it telling her that a call had been made, but disconnected with no message. She had discarded the call as unimportant. He had needed to talk to someone, when he was in emotional pain.

_She should have been there for him._

Her stomach twisted in guilt.

Deciding that she could sleep no longer, she unusually dismissed the notion of a shower, and went straight out to the kitchen.

As a small batter of pancakes cooled next to the stove half an hour later, she heard her phone sound from her bedroom. Bounding to meet it, she picked up immediately when she realised that it was Hodgins.

"Hey, Dr B," he greeted cheerily, before asking after her.

She replied politely that she was well. Asked him what progress had been made on the Rushmore case.

"Well, you see, that's why I called," he began, already sounding like he was reading from a suspense script; Hodgins loved explaining his discoveries like they were the greatest news of all ages. Which generally, they were, considering they gave the best leads when everyone else was stuck in the mud.

"That hair fibre Cam found amongst the flesh and mess? Turns out we were able to pull DNA."

Brennan waited.

"Aren't you going to say something like, _'oh, Hodgins, spare me the suspense! Enlighten me before I explode!'_?" He waited for her to say something. Zilch. "Okay, well it belonged to the Vegas wife, Mary Rushmore. I bet you wanna check her out, huh? Yeah. Well I got Angie giving us a location, and I called Booth." When no response came from the other end of the line, he was a little worried. "Bren, are you okay?"

"Fine."

He wasn't convinced. "Bren."

"I'm just a little discouraged that, over two days, all we could pull was a hair."

"Not just a hair," he reassured her. "We have a name. A place. A lead."

"I suppose if you look at it that way..." she trailed off.

"I'll catch you later, okay? Booth said he'd come over and pick you up soon-_ish_."

"How did you know I was awake?"

"Not me. He said you would be. He said that you don't sleep for more than ten hours in a single block. He reckons you would have been sleeping since seven thirty, so..."

Brennan's heart fluttered strangely. _He noticed things like that?_

After disconnecting her call with Hodgins, she returned to her pancakes, which she covered with sugar and lemon juice.

Surely enough, the buzzer on her door sounded not even ten minutes after she had settled down to her food. Reaching the door, she couldn't prevent a smile when her partner stepped through the entrance for the second time that day.

"How did you sleep?" Booth asked her almost immediately, walking through to the kitchen.

"Well. Very well. And you?"

He chuckled. "I didn't sleep."

She blushed and dipped her head. "Of course. It's daytime." She looked back to her meal, and sat down again.

"Is that sugar I see again? On pancakes? You made pancakes?" The was a lilting mock behind his astonishment.

She didn't reply. Instead, she shovelled a mouthful of pancakes in her mouth. She knew that her dietary habits were most unusual compared to her norm. It confused her too.

He pulled open her cutlery draw and retrieved a fork, before stabbing it into her small pancake pile.

"So..." he mumbled during a mouthful.

Brennan almost giggled at his poor table manners. "So...?"

"So, we're going to go and investigate the wife's place. Are you up to going?" He forked another clump.

She nodded. "I am tired, but I'm feeling better."

"Well that's good to hear."

"It is." She forked her food, racking up ideas that would prevent them from slipping into silence. "How has the office been today?"

She was answered with a shrug.

"Any progressions?" she then asked, at loss at what else to say.

Booth gave her a strange look. "Ah, Bones...we're going to investigate a possible progression. Are you sure you feeling-"

"I am sorry for asking irrelevant questions. My brain is elsewhere."

"O-kay," he replied slowly, outlandish expression still in tact.

They polished off the remnants of the food, and Brennan took the plate over to the sink.

"Allow me," he offered, when she released the water pressure, and it began to fill her sink. "You go and get dressed. I'll take care of these."

"Thank you." She ducked off to her bedroom quickly, not wanting to hold up their expedition.

Returning in a matter of moments, dressed simply with a few items of jewellery in addition to her outfit, she picked up the boots she had polished a few days ago, and tugged them on.

"Ready?" Booth asked as she picked up her bag.

She smiled, ran a layer of softly toned lipstick over her already rosy lips, smacked them together, and then nodded.

He watched her with a hint of fascination.

"You look good, Bones." Reaching out to her, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Brennan expected to feel uncomfortable under his affectionate touch, but instead she felt ignited by the fleeting brush of warm skin to her own flesh. She felt giddy from head to toe.

"Are you alright, Bones?" Booth asked suddenly, concealing his delight at her obvious reaction.

"Perfect," she breathed, still dazed. Shook her head. "Sorry," she then apologised, and the moment had disappeared, "we should be going."

The exited the apartment, his hand hovering just above the small of her back.

**-~B&B~-**

They drove along the rode quietly, but it wasn't a negative silence; they were comfortable in each other's company.

Every so often, Brennan would break into a small smirk, an absurd thought surfacing in her mind. Booth, still frivolous from their little moment before, would elapse into a throaty chuckle when he heard her simper.

His laugh made her laugh.

That made his mood escalate even higher.

Eventually they pulled onto the road that would lead them to the wife's address.

"How is it that a person who lives close enough to D.C., never makes it there?" Brennan asked as they drew closer.

"Elaborate, please.."

"Okay," she sighed, folding her thoughts in question. "How is it that, someone with the access to a big city – the same person that married a _city_ girl – rarely ever travels into the city, and when they do, it's only on a very rare occasion?"

Booth shrugged. "Generally that would be my question for you, but I would say that Mary Rushmore grew up in a more remote district, and doesn't like the buzz of the city. Countryside is quieter; more time to think."

"Fair enough," Brennan replied. "I find that your explanation conforms a rational reason."

Booth nodded, deciding that she just meant that he gave a believable answer. That was good enough for him.

"Does she know that we're coming?" his partner then asked.

"No, Bones. It might give her time to run." He winked.

"I don't know what that means..."

"Course you don't."

They spent a while longer bantering in quiet chatter, before finally reaching the Rushmore residence.

As it turned out, it was more than just a residence.

It was a stabling complex, complete with a sandstone mansion.

Booth had the feeling that there would be more lawyers to come.

**-~B&B~-**

Feet crunching on the white gravel, they made their way to the front entrance. The door was answered by a middle-aged woman, withered by years of work.

She introduced herself as Harriet Johnson, Mary's housekeeper of ten years.

As 'Hattie' mentioned her lady's name, Booth couldn't help but pick up the slightly bitter-edged tone her voice shifted to when she was regarded.

"Do you mind if we step inside for a moment?" Booth requested, sliding out his ID and flashing it at her briefly. "We have a few questions."

Hattie nodded. "Of course, right this way."

When they were seated in a parlour, porcelain cups in hand, that were filled with good coffee, the talking began.

"For someone who runs a very wealthy household, I'm surprised that you would let us in," Brennan stated, fore mostly.

Hattie answered her with a disinterested wave. "There are a lot of skeletons in this house. I won't do anything to protect them. You could ask me why I don't bother with keeping my mouth closed, but I find that keeping my nose clean is for the best."

"There are dead bodies in your house?" Brennan asked, interest creeping into her voice.

"Metaphorical skeletons, Bones. She was using a figure of speech," Booth corrected her as quietly as he could, surprised that he didn't feel the usual twinge of embarrassment at her public confusion.

"Ah." Brennan grimaced, feeling the slight humiliation at being confused once again.

"Where is your lady?" Booth asked Hattie, diverting from what he knew was another awkward moment for Brennan.

"She is out working through a Prep. Dressage test."

Booth knotted his eyebrows in confusion.

Brennan put a hand on his arm, eyes lighting. "In horseback riding, there are known to be three main disciplines; Showjumping, Cross Country and Dressage. Dressage is the training of a horse in obedience and deportment. The word dressage descends from its original French origin, which initiates the display of this very training. In dressage, there are levels of this discipline, and I imagine that Mary Rushmore is practicing one of the higher levels." She smiled proudly after her explanation, pleased with her knowledge.

While Booth studied her curiously, Hattie gave her a appraising smile.

"Are you a rider yourself, ma'am?" she asked the lively young woman.

Brennan shook her head. "I am a forensic anthropologist. Although I did ride when I was younger."

"Is that so?" Booth asked, slight surprised coating his tone. "You never told me that.'

"I never thought it pertinent information. Have you ever ridden yourself?"

"Pops took Jared and I out a few times with those trail riding groups when we went on holidays."

"Did you ride well?"

"Of course," Booth scoffed.

"I would like to see that." Brennan crossed her arms, and concealed a beam by biting her cheeks.

"I'd like to see you stay on a horse," Booth challenged.

"And you will. When this case is over, I'll show you."

When they turned their attention back to Hattie, she stared at them knowingly, having observed something that countless others probably had.

"My husband was a county sheriff," she revealed suddenly. "He was killed in a car accident."

"I'm so sorry," Brennan sympathised suddenly, smile falling from her face.

"Your husband here very much reminds me of him," Hattie stated, eyeing Booth.

"We're not married," the two partners replied in unison. "We not together."

"Of course you're not," Hattie sighed. "Anyhow - you are here on official business, of course?"

"Yes." Booth nodded. "We need to ask you a few questions about Evan Rushmore. We understand that he was married to Mary until very recently."

"Why? What happened."

"Mr Rushmore was murdered, Mrs Johnson," Brennan told her evenly, trying to sound as soft and compassionate as she could."

"Oh." Hattie slumped against the back of her chair. "_Oh._"

"_Oh,_ what?" Booth asked cautiously.

He could have received an answer, but he was interrupted.

"What on earth is going on here?"

The trio turned to face a very flawless Mary Rushmore.

And Joshua Blake.

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><p><strong>:) More's coming...!<strong>

**Thank you, amazing reviewers! Your words make me smile! **

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	13. Balancing Tempers

**Heyyy!**

**More - As promised!**

**Enjoy!**

**Xx G**

* * *

><p><strong>13. Balancing Tempers <strong>

"_What on earth is going on here?"_

Brennan tried to conceal a gape. Booth stiffened noticeably.

"What is going on?" The young woman repeated again.

"Ma'am, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI and Dr Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian," Blake immediately answered, ignoring a suspicious look that Hattie threw him.

Apparently he had shifted in attitude.

"Right," said Mary civilly, slightly flustered. "What do you want?"

"You are the wife of Evan Felix Rushmore, are you not?" Brennan questioned inquisitively, trying to ignore the strange feeling that plucked at her when she stared at the lively young woman. She reminded her of Hannah.

She wondered whether Booth accounted the resemblance.

If he did, he didn't show it.

"_Ex_ wife," Mary corrected. "Yes, that I am."

"Not according to record papers," Brennan righted her in return. "You are still very much married."

"And according to FBI records," Booth put in, taking a step closer to the woman, "he was living here until very recently."

Mary's jaw tightened. "Hattie? Clear away tea. Mr Blake? I will continue my business discussion with you at a more appropriate time."

Hattie gathered the dishes and departed. Blake, however was immovable.

"Go, Josh," the blonde said lowly, clearly assuming that the two crime partners had horrible hearing, "don't get caught up in this." However confident she seemed, there appeared to be a guard that had hole in it. Flaws.

"Do you wanna talk in here?" Booth motioned to the room around him with a nonchalant wave of the hand.

"In the study. Can you leave Ms Brennan behind, though?" Mary tilted her chin up.

Brennan furrowed a confused brow, offended.

"_Dr_ Brennan comes with me. She is my partner, and anything you say goes via her too," he told their suspect, adding emphasis to the fact that _his _Bones was a _doctor_. Not any old 'Ms'.

The FBI agent was as set as concrete on his decision. He could tell that Mary Rushmore didn't like it. _Screw her,_ he thought bitterly, _if she's a sourpuss to Bones, then that's all she's going to get in return._

Nodding tightly, Mary led them to a tidy study, that sported walls of classic novels, modern love stories, study resources and travel titles.

Ruefully, Brennan wondered just how many of them made it off the shelf.

While Booth strode straight to a seat, his partner strolled past the books, examining their careful order. He saw her freeze.

Squinting, he tried to see what she gazed at. The titles were harder to make out, but he made out the bold writing of the most important part.

'_Temperance Brennan'._

Bones' novels.

How had Mary pretended not to know Brennan, if she read her works? Iffy. How had Mary discouraged Brennan's title like she had before, if she read the brilliant doctor's novels? Spiteful.

Booth didn't like the motives of this woman.

Brennan appeared to dismiss this, however, and she took a seat beside him.

"When was the last time you saw your husband, Mrs Rushmore?" she asked, when they were all settled.

"About three weeks ago. He was heading into D.C. for a music gig; he had just released his new album, and because he is low on the chart food chain, this premiere release-type thing was his 'big break'." Mary Relaxed into the ancient groove of the leather desk chair.

Inwardly, the partners shared a silent wave of relief; perhaps this girl would talk easily.

"How long have you been separated?" Booth was mentally cataloguing everything.

Brennan could tell.

"Well...you see...it's complicated." Their suspect twisted her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Isn't it always?" Booth made the effort to encourage her into false security.

Mary lifted a shoulder, and dropped it listlessly. "We were on and off. I said that we had to break up, because I really couldn't see it going anywhere-"

"But you were married; the definition of marriage is the binding of those two who have believed to have found their true other halves. You marry someone because you want to be tied to them for the rest of you lives." Brennan appeared to be distressed by Mary's lack of coition. "How could you not see a relationship going anywhere, if you married for the sole purpose of love, and to be with that person for thirty, or forty, or fifty years?"

Brennan's sudden defensive demand caught Mary off guard. Booth, however, regarded his partner in shock.

He couldn't believe, that she, who always mocked the notion of marriage, had just defended it so passionately, and even quoted his own words of a year ago.

"Do you see why I didn't want her to come along?" Mary stumbled eventually, seemingly uncomfortable after the anthropologist's attack.

"Enough," Booth chided shortly, "Dr Brennan was right. Why marry someone, and then such a short time later, claim that the marriage was going nowhere? Didn't you consider having children?"

"No. I don't do kids. If anything, they are an inconvenience, and a waste of time." Again, Mary seemed to stick her nose in the air petulantly.

"I am a father," Booth put in sharply, having already taken a dislike to this woman. She irritated him, and it wasn't just because she strongly reminded him of Hannah.

"Having a child is one of the most fulfilling things a person can do with their lives. I see that your life, however, lacks purpose," Brennan supported bitterly.

Booth found that he was comforted by her logical attacks. She would put this woman in her place.

"You had questions?" Mary demanded irritably.

"Yes, of course." Booth crossed a leg and folded his hands in his lap.

"Proceed, then. My time is short."

"Do you have to go and powder your nose?" Brennan queried, feigning innocence.

Booth had to stifle a snort. He was thoroughly enjoying Brennan's fiery attitude.

"You were asking me questions about my husband's murder," Mary snapped, clearly unimpressed.

"We said nothing about murder, Mrs Rushmore," Brennan revealed evenly. "Where on earth did you get that notion? How did you even know that it could have been your husband? What if it had been he, who had murdered someone else?"

Mary shifted, suddenly very uncomfortable.

If he could have, Booth would have given his partner a high-five. She was on the ball, and he was loving it.

"Since we're on the same page," he said at that moment, deciding it was time to intercede. "Perhaps you tell us a few things." He was ready to interrogate.

Mary nodded tightly.

Brennan leant back in her chair, wishing that she had popcorn. She loved watching him broil suspects.

"What is your association with Mr Blake?" Booth fired.

It had began.

"That is irrelevant." Mary was losing confidence already.

"Not unless we think so."

"Business."

"What sort of business?"

"None of your business."

"Oh, we can very easily make it our business." Booth leant forward. "What is your connection to him?"

"Just business partners, that's all."

"She lying, Booth," Brennan put in suddenly, a smug feeling overwhelming her. "She is Joshua Blake's blood related sister. They have the same maternal family. I can also see the similarities in the formations of her profile."

Booth jaw tightened. "You had better tell the truth, Mrs Rushmore, or things are going to get ugly very quickly."

Mary huffed. "Fine. Josh is my older brother. We grew up on that winery, because our parents worked there for generations. The original owner had no other living relatives, so he left to my parents in the will. My parents, left it to Blake. _Comprends?_"

"Your slight accent," Brennan deducted thoughtfully, "it's French-Canadian. You weren't born here."

Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she flipped out a card from a small box in front of her. Tossed it to Booth.

"Screw this," she muttered. "You can talk to my lawyer."

"Booth, Mary shares the same lawyer as Blake," Brennan whispered, upon reading the small card.

"Duh. We're related. Family money. Now, if you don't mind, I have horses to work." Mary went to stand, brushing down her jodhpurs.

The two partners stood before she could.

"I was hoping that this would have been easier," Booth said curtly.

"Yeah, well, you supposed wrongly. Get out of my house." Mary put her hands on her hips.

"Don't you dare speak to him like that," Brennan hissed. "Have some respect. You may have the unearned dollars, but your disposition is appalling, and I find that I am disgusted by you."

"So you don't like me, do you? Because I know how I feel about you." The blonde almost sounded amused, but she wasn't prepared for Brennan's answer.

"No, I do not like you," the anthropologist answered shortly. "Your appearance is fake, your attitude petty and your smile could have fooled a loser. Everything about your person is bogus. I believe that society progresses no where with beings like yourself."

Mary gaped openly, clearly offended. Utterly offended. Her eyes flashed furiously.

Brennan didn't care. For once, she didn't feel guilty about serving it to someone. Although inwardly she had admit that part of the frustration and anger was projected because the woman resembled Hannah.

Booth ushered Brennan out of the mansion hastily.

When they were in the car, he turned to her.

"Look, Bones, don't get me wrong; I love that you're ready to attack with confidence, and I get that the woman was a-"

"Bitch," she interrupted shortly.

"Yeah but-" Booth started, startled by his partner being reduced to curse words.

"-and a fake."

"Yes-"

"There was something awfully bad about her. She gave me a really bad feeling. Have you completely checked her file?"

"No." Booth was stunned, having lost the will to snap at Brennan for interrupting him all the time. "No I haven't."

"Could you please? I know that I am normally opposed to 'going with my gut' but there is something I don't like about this woman; there is something that she's hiding, and she hardly said anything relevant to the case before I felt that way."

"Okay," Booth confirmed in higher tones. "We could check it out right now, if you wanted to."

"Later," she decided. "When we get back."

"She looked a bit like Hannah," Booth stated casually, quite suddenly, though.

Brennan froze. That was an unusual turn of conversation for him to breach, considering it was he, who always tried to swerve the 'H' topic.

"Is that part of the reason why you attacked her so maliciously? Is it because of what she looked like?" He turned the key in the ignition, but didn't meet her eyes.

"No, Booth, it's not-"

"Don't lie to me, Bones."

"I'm not lying!" she protested, hinting of hysteria.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"_Yes,_ you are."

"Fine. I am. She looked like Hannah, and I wanted to hit her. Are you happy?"

"Why are you so testy, Bones?"

"I'm not _testy_."

"You're being defensive." Booth pulled out of the property.

Brennan just groaned in reply.

"This is unlike you, Bones," he said warily, after receiving no other reply than her moan.

"Unlike me, how?"

"Your attitude."

"I'm cycling. I more vulnerable to emotional inconsistencies at the time being. She just put me in a foul mood, that's all," Brennan said as lightly as she could manage, allowing a contrite expression to wash over her face. "I apologise for being unpleasant. It's not your fault, and I shouldn't be maliciously attacking you." She sought around in her bag for a bottle of water after she concluded.

Booth heaved a sigh. "Explanation and apology accepted."

There was a heavy silence for a while.

Brennan prolonged what was on her mind. "Did Mary...did she have an effect on you because she looked like Hannah?" she asked eventually, having sourced the confidence.

"Bones..."

"You brought her up!"

"True. Okay, fine. Yes, I saw the resemblance. It sparked a twinge, but nothing more. No, I actually felt no regrets or resurfaced feelings when I looked into that girl's face."

Brennan half-nodded in reply, partially sure she believed him.

"Bones, I know that it generally takes people a while to get over lovers, but I couldn't be stuffed to think about Hannah right now, okay? She's deported, and I never have to see her again, not unless I want to. Which I don't. So..."

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yes, _fine_. I say it, to express my exception of your words."

"Bull. Why do I get the feeling that you've got another hit left in you?"

"No reason. You're imagining things."

"No, I'm not."

"Booth, listen to me, please. I will openly admit that I am more prone to slipping into a fowl mood, because of the time of the month - which is why Mary's resemblance to you ex stirred me up perhaps a little more than it should have-" Brennan heaved a frustrated sigh. "I accept your answer, even though my hormone-reined brain probably doesn't want to agree so. Can we please just not talk about it anymore?"

Booth nodded silently in agreement.

They travelled in silence, as they had before.

Although the wind had changed, and the attitude towards each other was once again reversed.

* * *

><p><strong>Hmm.<strong>

**What's next? ;)**

**Xx G**


	14. Facing The Facts

**More... :)**

**Xx G**

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><p><strong>14. Facing the Facts<strong>

"Whoa, got a hit on our Mary Rushmore," Booth called to Brennan, from where she stood at the doorway talking to Director Hacker.

Brennan smiled dismissively, and walked away from Andrew, who left promptly.

"Talk to me," she sighed, plopping down in one of Booth's chairs.

He looked at her, deliberating a train of thought.

"Okay, well, her 'black file' has a pretty interesting back story. You wanna hear it?"

"Would I be here if I didn't?"

"Good point." He tried to ignore her bland reply. "So, Mary Rushmore was born in Quebec. Her father was Canadian, and her mother American. Mary is nine years younger than her brother, Joshua Blake. The two are only half-blooded siblings. Joshua's father is unknown."

"Unknown, how?"

"Off the grid."

"Ah. Okay. So, the rest?"

"After Mary's mother gave birth, she left her daughter, with the father, and took off with nine year-old Josh. Years later, Mary tried to get in contact with her brother, couldn't find him, so she contacted a service, and they dug up a bit of dirt on her older bro. She found him, clearly. Mary has also been married three times. Her most recent marriage was, of course, our Evan Rushmore."

Brennan massaged a temple, leaning her head into the same hand. "Why would Mary lie so much about her family? Is she protecting them?"

"I don't know Bones. That is a possibility though. What could also be a possibility, is that she is ashamed of them for some reason or other."

"Well, her mother did abandon her."

"Yes-"

"May I suggest you do a check-up on her father?"

"Already done." Booth tapped a few keys into his computer, and a document flashed onto the screen. "Mathieu Pierson. Had a clean record until seven years prior. He was caught in a combat attack on the police forces of Quebec, and was shot dead. When he died, those two siblings lost the only support they had."

Brennan nodded, slowly processing every detail. "That was the same year that Mary married her first husband, am I correct?"

"You got it. That year-" Booth typed a few keys, and hit enter. Reading off the screen, he continued, "Mary married Kevin Giles. He had the pretty dollar. No kids. Estranged family. My guess, is Mary would have been the only person on his will. Anyway, Kevin disappeared a year or so after Mary married him. Case went cold, and he was declared dead."

"And the other husband?"

"I'm getting to it."

"Why didn't you just get Agent Heath to get it for you?" Brennan couldn't understand why he would waste his own valuable time, when they had a case that needed all the time they could give, to crack it.

"Because you asked me to."

She was taken back by his response. "Do I really have such a great sway over your actions?"

She received no reply.

"Okay – it's here," said Booth quickly, eyes scanning the new profile. "Nicholas Gates, age thirty-seven when he went missing. He has two daughters, Charlotte and Elizabeth. It says here that his first wife, Margaret died giving birth to the youngest, Elizabeth. Mary Rushmore – although previously Mary Giles – married him, and their relationship lasted for about two years before he went off the grid. Like before, case went cold, and he was declared dead. His two daughters now live with his late wife's parents in New York." He looked up from the screen to watch his partner.

Her eyes were knotted together, and she bit her lower lips between her teeth so harshly, that the rouge blood nearly surfaced.

"Are you okay, Bones?" he asked tentatively.

"I don't know," she replied a little shakily. "I think...well...think about it."

"Think about what? You're not making sense."

"Was Nicholas wealthy?"

"He and his wife built up some great money; apparently they had business lifted from the ground in racehorses."

"Don't you see the recurring pattern here?" Brennan asked, a look of revelation colouring her glazed eyes.

Booth remained silent, allowing her to explain.

"She married wealthy men, who had a fortune. She married those who didn't have any other family – with Nicholas being the exception; he may have had two daughters, but I don't see his late wife's family making an extreme effort to find him. If anything, they probably blamed him for the death of their daughter."

"You know what, Bones? You are _brilliant_, you know that? _Brilliant_."

"Yes, I know."

"So Mary marries those who have very loose family connections, and kills them for their money?"

"Be poetic about it, if you wish, but that is what I think."

"Fantastic. So we have an aim."

"Yes, we do. Can you think of any rational reason supporting her need for a secure inflow of cash?"

Booth stood and began to pace his office thoughtfully. "She was separated from her brother...her mother is gone, her father dead...she wants to stay in her brother's life, he is successful-"

"Or not so much; although I chose the winery myself for a holiday destination, it was apparently poorly portrayed in the article I read. It had been suffering financial difficulties on and off for the past ten years."

"Genius, Bones!'

"Why?"

"Because if Mary Rushmore wanted to stay in her brother's life, and he was struggling to keep his business afloat, she could have been marrying these men, and then cashing in on their inheritances."

"Oh..." Brennan replied thoughtfully. "So are we assuming that Mary knew that Evan had the potential to make it in the music industry, so she sat back and waited for his money to come in?"

Booth shrugged. "Sounds probable." He expected his partner to offer more, but instead she collapsed into a sad silence.

"What's the matter?" he asked compassionately, drawing a seat closer to hers and settling down.

"The records said that she was married to three men, correct?" Brennan asked, eyes wide.

"Yes."

"They said that her previous husbands' cases went cold."

"Yes."

"We have multiple murders on our hands, Booth."

"Bones, we don't know that for sure-"

"You have to admit that the symmetry of this case is lining up."

"Well, yeah, but..."

"But what?" She crossed her arms.

"We have no evidence, Bones," Booth argued exhaustedly. "All we have are assumptions. Probabilities. There is no evidence in this case! It's clean. Very tidy. Clearly, the person we're dealing with knows how to leave behind an untraceable track. I'm telling you, this is a career killer. We're allowed to lose one, sometimes, Bones, okay? That's life. We're gonna lose this one."

"No." Brennan shook her head viciously, and stood.

"Yes, Bones. Reality. You can get all of the facts you want, but they're not going to add up."

"Yes, they will."

"No, they won't."

"I'll make them add up."

"You can't." Booth stood. "Look, all of our suspects are tight-mouthed. They're putting us on edge. This case is going to drive a wedge between us."

Brennan looked at him sadly. "It already has, Booth," she whispered in torment, yanking her back up from the floor, and existed his office without another word.

**-~B&B~-**

Morning sunlight filled the Jeffersonian the following morning, wisping away horrors of the day before, if any had existed. Brennan however, missed this, cooped away in the Bone Room.

"The metacarpal shows evidence of industrial wear," Brennan stated, moving her hand in a strumming motion.

"Bren, the guy was a musician. He played a guitar. Seriously, though; what's wrong?" Angela set down her clipboard. "Why are you running over insignificant details that you haven't missed?"

"Because I might find something. I know that you think I have analysed all I can, but I can't find anything else."

"What about his head wound? Why aren't you examining that, instead of the extremities?"

"Because I have a feeling that it isn't going to lead us anywhere."

"A feeling? Bren, the head wound was cause of death. Analysing it will help us find the murder weapon."

"You've already tried, Ange, and you couldn't find anything. Unusual, given the recourses you have, but you failed to produce any evidence. Please, stop telling me how to do my job," Brennan snapped.

Angela stood back tearfully, hand on her womb.

Taking a deep breath, Brennan realised the biting words were wrong, after they had been spoken. "Ange, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't want to be angry at you. I shouldn't be angry with you. Nothing...none of this is your fault." She ripped of her gloves and tossed them in a nearby wastebasket.

"What can you tell about the head wound?" Angela then asked, dismissing the snappy moment, and apology she received from her friend.

"It's not cause of death," Brennan replied with a shrug. "It was already starting to heal at time of death. The whole scull appears to have a deformed look about it, and you're not going to like what I am thinking."

Her best friend motioned for her to continue.

"This deformity and strange head wound? It occurred post-mortem. We have no cause of death."

"So we're back to square one?"

Brennan nodded.

"Great," Angela hissed, retrieving her clipboard. "This case just gets better by the day."

"Well, I might have just _saved _the day," Hodgins said suddenly, cheerily skipping into the Bone Room. "We supposed that our victim was buried shortly before his death, did we not?"

"Just cut to the chase, Jack," Angela requested tiredly.

"Okay. So our victim was buried in a paddock that contained _lots_ of decomposed horse manure. The soil was very rich and high in nutrition."

"Could it have been Mary Rushmore's place?" Brennan queried helpfully. "I mean, she does live on a very well kept horse property."

Hodgins nodded. "If I can get soil samples from that particular place, I might be able to match them with the soil found on Evan."

"Contact Mr Bray, Dr Hodgins. He can accompany you."

Brennan retrieved another pair of gloves and made her way to the gurney again.

"Sweetie?" Angela positioned herself closer to the anthropologist.

"Mmm."

"Bren?"

"Yes?" She looked up.

"Shouldn't you call Booth?"

Swallowing hard, Brennan tried to conceal the hurt from her eyes. "No," she strangled, shaking her head weakly.

Angela, although still understandably offended by Brennan's outburst, felt sadly towards her best friend. She was hurting. Something had happened.

"Are you busy tonight?" she asked, taking a step closer as Brennan inspected a clavicle.

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Brennan premeditated. Considered turning her best friend down. Then settled on realising that she really wanted to talk to Angela, out of the workplace. She wanted to spend time with her.

"If I have any plans, they are not relevant. Would you like to come to my place?" she offered hopefully.

Her pregnant friend rubbed her torso. "I would love that. Does seven-thirty work for you?"

"Yes. Perfect. I'll see you then."

Nodding, Angela left the platform and waddled to her office.

Brennan leant towards the bones, and stared them down. For hours, she analysed the victim. Lunch passed it's mark. Afternoon was dawning, when she finally registered what had been there all along.

"Oh my god," she breathed, taking a step back from the table. This was it.

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><p><strong>More to come - don't worry!<strong>

**I hope you're enjoying it :S**

**Xx G**


	15. Parts of a Greater Puzzle

**Enjoy, guys.**

**This was a nice chapter to write =)**

_**(Oh, and before anyone thinks I'm a nut for putting both Clarke, and Wendell in this case, I'm just rotating characters. That's all. ;D)**_

**Xx G**

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><p><strong>15. Parts of a Greater Puzzle<strong>

"I can't believe I missed it before," Brennan repeated again, as she watched Cam analyse her finding.

"You've had a lot on your plate, Dr Brennan. Emotionally. Everyone misses things once in a while." Her boss turned to face her. "You were right though; he was buried alive."

"Do you want to hear my scenario?" Hodgins offered, stepping forward.

They all nodded.

"The murderer slips our victim carbon dioxide – which I discovered was evident around our victim - somehow. He falls unconscious. She buries him alive, and as soon as she is convinced he is dead, a day or so later, she digs up the body and dumps it."

"Why would she do that?" Wendell asked, giving his colleagues a questioning look.

"Would you want a dead body buried on your property?" Hodgins asked with a shrug.

"Probably not." Wendell shifted on his feet, seeing how unnecessary his question had been.

"Well there's you answer," Cam concluded, discarding her gloves. "We have cause of death, a probable scenario, and I have to go to dinner with Paul. We can work more tomorrow. Everyone home. Courtesy to Dr Brennan, we can all rest easily tonight."

Hodgins flicked off the lights.

They all departed the Bone Room, and went to their specified work areas to tidy their belongings.

"Dr Brennan?" Cam called, right before she left.

"Hmm?" Brennan stopped in her tracks.

"You will tell Booth about this. Let him know where we're at."

Nodding stiffly, she complied by her boss' request, and drew her phone from her pocket.

Cam watched her punch in a button, and, when convinced, exited the Jeffersonian.

Once she was sure no one was within visible distance, Brennan dropped the phone back into the pocket of her bag.

"Not calling Booth?" A voice asked from behind her.

"Jack...don't, please," Brennan sighed.

"He needs to be updated." Hodgins shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, making his statement sound so nonchalant, that Brennan felt guilty for expanding the task's difficulty.

She turned and left.

Sighing sadly, the scientist helplessly watched his friend leave.

**-~B&B~-**

"Mmm," Angela hummed, sliding a slice of the gourmet spinach tart into her mouth. "Bren, this is amazing. I didn't give you any notice, how did you whip up something...?"

"I'm sorry Ange; this one was bought."

"Oh. Where from?" Angela devoured another forkful.

"The little deli and fresh food place around the corner. I picked it up on the way home, along with lemon gelato, which, mind you, we will have for desert."

A grin reached from ear to ear on Angela's pretty face. "_Ooh la lá. J'adore au gelato._" She clapped her hands together gleefully.

Brennan smiled. "I thought you might."

They finished up their main course, and the hostess cleared the table, placing it all in the sink to be dealt with later. Opening the freezer, she reached for the gelato just as there was a buzz to her door.

"Can you get that Ange?" she called over her shoulder.

"It might be Hodgins," Angela muttered, striding over to the door. She pulled it open, and a small gasp escaped her lips. "Bren?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I should go..."

"Why?" Brennan rounded the corner, spoon in hand. She saw her visitor, and it slipped from her hold, clattering noisily to the floor. "Booth," she mumbled through stiff lips, disposition having immediately shifted.

"Sweetie, I'll go," Angela offered, collecting her bag from the counter, and sliding her arms into her jacket. "We'll have gelato another time."

As quickly as Brennan had received a new visitor, she lost her most welcome one.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she told Angela, giving her a tight squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Angela assured her. "I need to get a few hours sleep anyway, and I know that if things had gone my way, I would have been here a few more hours."

When her guest was gone, she had no choice but to allow in her new one.

"Any progressions on the case?" Booth asked brusquely the moment the door was closed behind them.

Brennan shrugged.

"You're really going to lie to me?" he asked in surprise.

She heard the hurt behind his voice.

"I'm not lying," she said thinly, toying with the fabric of her shirt. "I haven't said a word."

"Cam called. She told me about the progressions. Why didn't you tell me, when you found out so much this afternoon?"

"Because..." She smiled hopelessly, under pressure, and feeling ridiculous at the absurdity of the situation. This was Booth, she was talking to, for crying out loud.

"This isn't funny." He was unimpressed.

"I know it isn't," Brennan said defensively, losing her weak reaction. The smile disappeared. "Booth, I know it isn't."

"Then why...?"

"You said last night that we were going to give up; let a murderer walk away. What if they had done it again? Murdered someone else? You were beginning to doubt our work, Booth, and I couldn't have that. It was like a huge whack in the gut. You _know_ that I rely on your strength to pull us through – with you giving up, I felt like I was too. It's like we're two halves of the whole; I can't get by without you." She hung her head. "My keeping you out of the loop was my own immature resolution at dealing with the fact that you didn't want to work with me."

"Hey," Booth disagreed huskily, taking a few steps towards her. "I never said that I didn't want to work with you. Never. I was just feeling beaten." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I wish I hadn't been so insecure about it all; I should know better than to be so weak."

"You're not weak," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. "You're only human." She broke away, and shuffled back. "I know that there is only so many times you can use an apology before it means nothing at all," she added slowly, using the same tone, "but it never feels spent on us. So...sorry?" She stared up at him hopefully, eyes wide.

He enclosed her in his arms. "Yeah, sorry. I'm sorry Bones."

She relaxed in his embrace, and ran her hands under the crooks of his arms, hooking them to the top of his shoulders in a tighter embrace.

"I don't want this case to get between us," she mumbled against his warm chest. "I don't want anything to get between us."

"I know." Booth stroked her hair gently. "What do we do now?" he then asked, after they broke apart some moments later.

"Do you like gelato?"

"Horrible. Hate it. It's not creamy."

"Oh." Her face fell. "Well, I could make pancakes...?"

"Only if you have sugar."

"Better still," she said, picking up the spoon she had dropped earlier. "I have maple syrup."

Booth dropped his jaw in mock surprise.

She hit playfully on the arm. "Don't look at me like that."

"Just...wow. Is it the real stuff?"

"Best money can buy. I bought it for your sweet tooth."

He laughed and kept an arm around her shoulder as they entered her kitchen.

**-~B&B~-**

"You snore," she mumbled groggily the next morning, swatting her overnight visitor as he was roused from his slumber.

"I do not snore," he protested, pushing off any other papers that hadn't already fallen off the bed. "Liar. You, however, mumble in your sleep."

"I do?"

"Mmhmm."

"What did I say?"

He cracked a cheeky smile.

"Tell me," she demanded.

He shook his head, teeth beginning to show behind the lips he bit. "No way."

After eating pancakes the following night, playing a very competitive card game of _Snap_, and sharing a drink of scotch, Brennan had taken her laptop into the bedroom, and he had followed. She had sat and typed up her handwritten notes for that day, in preparation for the following day, and Booth had stretched out across the bed as if it were the most utterly normal thing to do.

All the while, she multi-tasked, and answered questions he threw at her. Eventually, the notes had been printed out, and along with others she had collected over the past few days, Brennan had lain them out on the bed and studied them. Booth had read her thorough scripts, until eventually she had fallen asleep on his arm. He realised, as he had drifted to sleep, that them coexisting like this was as easy as breathing.

The same realisation hit him at that very moment, on the morning that he shared with his partner.

It was as easy as breathing. He didn't have to be anything, or anyone when he was with her. And he knew that she felt exactly the same way, regardless whether she decided to verbalise it or not.

He was shaken from his blissful trance when a pillow hit his head.

"Tell me," she begged, with the same, wide eyes she had used on him countless times. "Please."

He shook his head. "I'm keeping that to myself."

"_Please?_"

Again, he swung his head from side to side in refusal.

She hit him with the pillow, a little harder this time.

He replied by picking up a cushion of his own, and planting it on her himself.

Again, he thrashed with the pillow, and she fought back. The duvet became ruffled, and her legs tangled in the mesh of sheets. Crawling to the edge of the bed for safety, she squealed when he caught her ankle.

"No, Booth!" she giggled, waving at the floating feathers around them, trying to grasp onto anything that would prevent her from being dragged. "No, no, no!"

Fighting against his chest, she felt herself being pushed back into the soft covers.

"Now do you regret attacking a ranger?" he challenged in a laugh, ticking her viciously.

"No! I mean yes!" she gasped hysterically. "Stop! Stop it...sto-" She lifted a hand to strike him playfully, but found that it rested on his cheek in a gentle stroke. She hesitated, heart thumping wildly.

He read the wariness in her eyes, and while a voice in the back of his mind warned him not to push it, he couldn't fight the urge to release a hand that held one of her shoulders in place, and allow it to trail down her torso. He felt her shiver beneath the feather-like touch of his hand.

Desire aching in the pit of her stomach, she reached up to meet his mouth quickly. Warm tongue sliding inside his responsive mouth, she freed one her hands, and grasped the small of his back.

He locked a hand around her waste, and cradled her head with his other. Fingers gently kneading her skull in massaging motions, her skin flushed with desire, and they melted into each other. For a long time, they remained locked in each other's embrace, moving mouths against each other, and tongues battling for control.

Until her phone shrilled.

He covered her ears with his hands, and kissed her hungrily, sincerely hoping that she would dismiss it. She kissed him back, lips folding around his.

The phone stopped.

The room lapsed into silence again.

She played with the waistband of his pants, and he bunched the cotton of he shirt in his hand, moving it over bare flesh.

His phone buzzed from the bedside table.

Releasing a throaty, irate moan, he broke apart from her in heaving breaths. She too, gasped breathlessly for air, but her eyes portrayed no evidence of exhaustion. They were electric, as he imagine his own were.

Reaching for the device, he held it to his ear.

"Booth," he puffed.

"Booth, it's Cam. Are you working out?" The caller sounded amused. Very.

"What? No. Not working out, just, never mind. Waddaya want?" Booth knew that his reply was rushed, but his mind was a scramble.

"Dr Brennan didn't answer her phone just a moment ago, so I tried you. She always answers her phone."

"Mmm. Right. What is it that you want?"

"Are you ready to come in yet? Stupid question, it's eight o'clock. Of course you are. Get in here as soon as you can; there's discussing to be done. Tell Dr Brennan the same, please."

"Bones isn't with-"

"Save it Big Man," Cam laughed lightly, "I'll see you soon."

Booth disconnected, and stared down at Brennan.

He couldn't tell whether she was flushed with embarrassment or excitement.

He settled on both. Swiftly, he ran a warm hand against her smouldering cheek.

"I have to go," he said lowly, regret burning evidently in his voice.

"Couldn't we just both go in now?" she asked, with the normal level of oxygen flooding her lungs, so her rushed words were legible.

"I slept in these clothes, Bones. I gotta go home and change."

"At least let me give you breakfast and a coffee to go," she negotiated.

He agreed, and slipped of the bed.

Leaning against the kitchen bench, he waited thoughtfully while she showered and readied herself for the day. When she finally entered the kitchen, and began about the space as he imagined she did every day, he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking.

"Where does this leave us?" he asked, speaking his thoughts, and staring at his bare feet.

"What do you mean?" she replied in question, confused.

"You and I. Us."

"What about us?" She seemed _very_ hesitant.

"We kissed."

"I know."

"This morning."

A smile cracked its way through her controlled face. "Yes, we did." She turned away, and flipped the switch on her coffee machine. It buzzed as it warmed up, and after she placed a travel cup underneath, she pressed the start button, and they waited in silence as the mug filled with steaming, fragrant, coffee.

In the meantime, Brennan reached over to her cupboard, retrieved a small cup, and filled it with milk. Popping it in the microwave, and setting it to a minute, she bustled about to her toaster and tossed two slices in.

While the toast cooked, she finished preparing the coffee, pouring in the hot milk, adding Booth's two sugars, and securing the lid.

"Go and get dressed," she ordered him quietly, heading back to the toaster. "Your tie and coat are still in the lounge, and your shoes and socks are in my bedroom."

He complied, and while he was gone, she swiftly sliced pieces of tomato and cheese. Retrieving the toast, she set down a layer of cheese on it, sat the tomato slices on top, and sprinkled over pepper. She put the small entrée into the grill of the oven.

After a few moments, the cheese had melted, and the tomatoes heated steamily. She retrieved them, placed them together sandwich-style, and cut them in triangle halves.

Eventually, when Booth returned with his socks, shoes in tact, and a washed face, he collected his tie and jacket from the lounge and made his way over to her.

She held out the coffee cup and paper bag.

He went to put down his tie so he could accept them, but she put them down, and picked the navy silk out of his hands. Hastily, but very tidily, she fastened it around his neck.

"I'm very capable of putting on my own tie," he managed, flushed.

"I know," she replied chastely. "But I do it better." She picked up his breakfast and handed it to him. "Just so you know," she added, wrinkling her nose, "I would never eat that. But you would, so..."

"You're only saying that, because you're a muesli nut," he defended, giving her a quick wink. "I'll see you at work."

She stood back and wrapped her arms around her torso, heaving an unsteady sigh. "Work."

He offered her a small smile.

Just as he thought she wasn't going to return it, and her opened the door to leave, her beautiful face broke into a lovely smile.

_Work,_ he told himself, _an hour, and you'll see her again._

He left his partner's apartment on Cloud Nine.

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><p><strong>Thanks for any reviews already - you guys are really generous =) and I enjoy reading them. Next chapter soon, as per promised! XxG<strong>


	16. Turning Point

**Hey guys - this is the final of the new five new chapters I had done, so unless I get a kick on tonight, the next chapter after this one will be on in the next few days or so.**

**Two quick things: **

**Firstly, thank you to my great supporters, you are amazing! I write for all of those who want to hear! Secondly, the stuff up with the person who copied my chapter, has deleted their story. DW - If you had read both, and wondered why it was the same, never fear: you weren't going crazy. It has been sorted out.**

**M'kay - enjoy guys!**

**Xx G**

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><p><strong>16. Turning Point<strong>

"_Hoi_," Hodgins greeted cheerily from the entrance to Brennan's office. "How was your night?"

"Good," Brennan replied slowly, putting down her things by her desk. "Angela must have told you, right?"

"What? Oh, yeah. She had a great time...sad that she missed out on the gelato, but she said she'd live."

_Gelato_. What Brennan had had last night _instead_ of gelato. Her face flushed fully in colour, and her stomach flipped nervously.

"Hey man," Booth's cheery voice sounded from behind Hodgins, and Brennan heard a slap on the back.

Hodgins looked at the two, and dismissed himself almost immediately.

"I missed you," Booth said, sauntering over to Brennan quickly.

She put out a restraining hand. "I-it's been an hour and a half. What took you so long?"

"Had...stuff to do. I had to talk to Cam, too." He realised that she almost sounded nervous. "What's the matter, Bones?"

"N-nothing," she stammered, trying to keep her eyes from locking with his.

"Do you regret kissing me?" Booth asked, a little offensively.

"No!" she amended quickly. "I do not. It was extremely invigorating. You are a great kisser...it's just that-"

"Just that 'what'?"

"I don't want things to get...complicated. I want to keep things neutral, just until the case is over."

"Oh."

"Don't get me wrong," she assured him lowly, eyes glowing with desire. "I really do wish that I had the capability to lose myself in someone, without suffering consequences and dilemmas." She reached into her pocket, and retrieved his phone, which he had left that morning. "I just want to be sure that I won't destroy this."

He took the phone that she held. "Consequences?" he denounced.

She rolled her shoulders back, and slumped her posture. "You and I have been friends for nearly seven years. There has always been the romantic, or physical potential there, had we both been courageous enough to explore it. Given that we have such a strong emotional bond, I fear that by entering a romantic relationship with you, I may lose sight of what really matters." She dropped her gaze to the floor, and her hair shielded her face. "I am afraid that, if this goes ill between us, that I will lose you as a friend, as well as a soul mate."

He softened compassionately, and moved his hold from the phone connecting their hands, to her arm. Turning it over, he traced the veins that pulsed there, and brought her wrist up to his mouth, planting a soft kiss to its smooth skin.

"You'll never lose me," he whispered, an undeniably finality to his voice. "What we have been through, proves that."

"I know," she breathed, closing her eyes and sighing.

"I don't believe that we can't work this out," Booth said sincerely, tucking her soft brown hair behind her ears.

She opened her eyes, and locked them with his. He took her chin between his thumb and index finger.

Booth's phone vibrated in her hands. She passed it to him.

"We're going to get Mary Rushmore in for further interrogating," Booth informed Brennan, after glancing at the text message. "She claims that she is going to come without a lawyer."

"Do you want me to come in with you?" his partner asked hopefully, although there was an ounce of doubt guarding her question. She remembered her previous meeting with the sassy blonde very clearly.

"Of course. I know you two don't exactly see eye to eye, but you, my dear, are beautiful at shutting down her lies." Booth grinned proudly.

Brennan bloomed at his praise.

"When do you want to go?" she asked, folding an arm across her torso.

"Now? She's in custody at the FBI office."

"Okay. I have the case files, if you want me to bring them along."

"Is that even a question?"

"No, I just wanted to make it sound like I am going to be of use to you."

He chuckled lightly. "Of course you are, Bones. Silly Bones."

**-~B&B~-**

"Never met them in my life," Mary said quickly, looking over her shoulder.

Brennan glared down on the case file, and ground her molars together in attempt to conceal a retort.

_Of course you didn't know any of these men, Mary,_ she thought bitterly, _you just married them for their money and never spared them a second thought once they were dealt with_. She could feel Booth flexing his forearm beside her, and she knew that he was fighting the urge to pounce.

He was a great cop, she gave him that, but when it came to something personal, there was no one that could stand in his way. For both of them now, this case was personal, and she feared that Andrew Hacker might take them off it for unprofessionalism.

"Two daughters, Mary," Booth said suddenly, producing a family photograph of the trio. "Charlotte, Elizabeth and Nicholas; two daughters, and their father. You're telling me that you never met them?"

Mary nodded emotionlessly, and then flickered a glance at her nails.

Again, Booth produced a document. Slammed it down on the table.

It was a marriage certificate.

Booth opened his file folder, and brought out another couple of sheets.

Bank statements. Letters. Signatures. Mary's own birth certificate.

"We can prove just about anything, Mary. You were married. Three times. Your signatures on bank statements and letters match the ones on your marriage certificates."

Mary crossed her arms. "Waddaya want from me?" she huffed.

"Your cooperation."

"Nuh-uh. Doesn't work that way. I came here without a lawyer, even though I said I would get one – that is my extension of cooperation to you."

"Alright, fine. I'll tell you how this is going to work then." Booth stood, put his hands on his hips, and began to circle the table. "You're probably going to request a lawyer now, which we are going to have to graciously accept...But then it gets toucher," he continued, keeping an even tone. "There will be all sorts of legal obstacles, and you're going to believe that you're safe behind your unbeatable wall of legal defences; that your brother is behind you. That you're invincible. Well, you see, that's why _we're_ here-" he broke off to give Brennan a supportive smile, "-we're going to make sure, that if you have done anything...we will find out. Not one little stone is going to be left unturned, do you understand?"

Mary nodded tightly. "Understood. Now, considering you can't question me without my attorney or lawyer, I'd like to be dismissed."

Booth looked at Brennan. She met his eyes with a quick flicker.

"You will be met by Agent Heath, who will explain to you some terms. Mrs Rushmore, you are now a suspect in a federal investigation – there will be some limitations to your everyday lifestyle. I will see to it that Heath tells you _everything." _Booth opened the door for Brennan, and motioned with his hand for her to leave.

Gathering her things, she gratefully departed with him.

**-~B&B~-**

"Look, I am generally not disturbed by much, but that woman-" Brennan began, not long after their pear-shaped interrogation.

They were in the coffee room, trying to perk their dampened confidence.

"I know, Bones," Booth interrupted her, pulling a disposable coffee cup from the stack. "She gave me the creeps. No shotty drug dealers, no loonies, have ever really done that to me. Disgusted me, maybe. But that woman was just _cold_."

"Like the Gravedigger?" Brennan suggested, taking a cup also.

Booth grimaced. "Well, yes and no. Not really the same thing, Bones..."

"Why not?" she contradicted. "The Gravedigger murdered, covered it up and lied about it. Mary Rushmore is doing just that."

"Yeah. But the Gravedigger planned her murders-"

"So did Mary-"

"Mary Rushmore killed for money. She married, killed for money, and then gave it to her brother."

"You were the one that said that Blake Wineries was doing badly," Brennan pointed out swiftly, trying to avoid being interrupted again, "so perhaps she kept the money for herself. Just like the Gravedigger would have, had she ever succeeded in collecting the ransom."

"It's not the same, Bones," Booth snapped, and thrashed his cup to the ground.

She jumped, but didn't retreat. She held her ground. Bit her bottom lip.

"Geez, Bones." He shook his head dejectedly. "I'm sorry. I'm angry, and I have no right to let it out on you. You're just trying to make sense of this as much as I am." He bent and picked up the cup, tossing it in the bin. "I don't feel like a coffee," he then said, running a hand through his hair. "Will you join me for lunch?"

Brennan took a deep breath. "At the diner?"

"Founding Fathers. I feel like I need to have a proper meal. That okay? Or are you too busy?"

"My schedule is free, if I want it to be."

"So I take that as a yes?"

She squeezed his arm supportively, giving him her answer. A hint of a smile wavered across his face.

**-~B&B~-**

For a typical working day, the Founding Fathers was quiet for its usually busy Wednesdays, and despite having an empty restaurant, the two decided on a booth tucked away around the corner. After ordering meals, the two leant back into their own seats, and before Brennan could raise a topic, Booth covered one of her exposed, folded hands with his.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, catching her nervous eyes.

"I know," she replied instantly, thinking that he meant to express regret for their most recent banter.

"Not just for going off at you before...but for everything. You know that, don't you?"

"Know what?" she asked him blankly.

He smirked softly at her old _'clueless'_ habit, and tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

"You know how sorry I am for everything," he said gently, "for letting you down."

"I know. But you understand the gravity of the situation."

"And what is that?" He furrowed a brow.

"That I need time. You know, that normally I would take you back in the blink of an eye...but I can't help this feeling of fear. I feel like I might die before I will ever trust anyone so fully again. Though, I do understand that the fault is not all your own. I know that I cannot blame you for falling in love with someone, and then returning to me, with her, and finding that I expected everything to slot into place as it had once been."

Booth remained silent, knowing that she needed to talk. He had done enough interrupting for one day.

"I just only wish that I had examined the workings of my heart and had been willing to push my boundaries before I lost it all," she concluded, hanging her head. "For my part in ruining everything between us, I am sorry. Make today for apologies. Tomorrow will be a new day."

"As much as I might think it would ease tension by saying my relationship with Hannah was a mistake...I don't think it was, really," he told her, wary of the territory he was stepping into. "I know that if I had just waited, then perhaps I could have had a relationship with you, but you and I both know that that wouldn't have happened for a while, and not without encouragement, either. I mean, it took us six years to admit feelings, and that was courtesy to a nudge – or _shove_, should I say – from a pesky twelve-year-old psychologist."

She broke into a smile at his explanation.

"You know that I love you," he said in thick, burning voice. "You know where I stand. And I know that, when you're ready, you will know too."

She nodded respectfully, accepting his vow of emotions.

"What do you want for lunch?" she then asked, pulling out a menu.

"Meatloaf, without the hardboiled eggs."

Again, she beamed. "_What's ours, is ours_," she murmured fondly, remembering. "I'll have the garden salad."

Booth waved the waiter over. "The meatloaf, without the hard-boiled egg, and a garden salad, please," he told him. "Two glasses of Barossa Valley white, too, thank you."

The waiter nodded, having jotted the orders, and walked away.

"Our wine," Brennan hummed, taking a table napkin and toying with it, to conceal her giddy expression.

"It is the best," he told her, taking a napkin as well.

"I'm glad my partner has such good taste," she conceded, "I should think that otherwise, I wouldn't survive."

"Are you going all _Jane Austen_ on me, now?"

"Jane Austen, who?"

Booth dropped his jaw in mock horror. "Even I know Jane Austen."

"I'm just joking, Booth," she laughed. "I think I have read every novel of hers that was ever printed."

"Look at you," he said fondly, eyes glowing. "Playing cheek with me."

"Is it too farfetched?"

"No, it's just perfect."

He reached out an brushed the length of her face, settling at the base of her throat.

She stared down at his hand wondrously, heart fluttering, and a flush spreading from her chest to rouge cheeks. Her chest rose heavily with her intakes of breath, and he seemed to enjoy the feel of her powerful lungs withdrawing air, beneath his hand.

"Your wine, sir?" A deep voice said, breaking their moment.

They drew apart, and the waiter placed their beverages by their hands.

"Does this count as a date?" she asked jovially, smiling behind the rim of her glass.

"Well, I wouldn't call it a _date._ This is you and I, having lunch." Booth took a sip of his wine.

"Not just any lunch." She seemed to hold great significance for the moment.

"No, not just any lunch," he agreed, taking her hand in his. "This is a turning point." He kissed her hand warmly.

"Turning point," she repeated in a murmur.

"Yes."

They waited in comfortable silence, with the occasional comment on small subjects that didn't need to be breached any further.

"Sir? Your meatloaf, without the hard-boiled egg?" Their waiter told them quarter of an hour later, setting down his meal.

"Yes, thank you." He accepted the plate.

Brennan smiled so widely, that Booth had to laugh.

"No human eye-ball?" Brennan joked, poking him.

"No eye-ball, Bones."

She laughed heartily and brought the wine glass to her lips.

The moment felt perfect.

And she had a great suspicion, that there would be many more to come.

* * *

><p><strong>There you go guys - remember, I write for you, my readers, so if you have any ideas as to how you guys would like it to go, let me know!<strong>

**Just in case I may have confused you though, Booth and Brennan are not together yet. ****Cringe. I know. Sorry, but there is a bit more grovelling on Booth's part, before we can allow that to happen. Also, it has probably only been about a month since Booth broke up with Hannah.**

**Until next time (_which is hopefully, very soon: get writing Miss G!)_**

**Xx G**


	17. Shared Thoughts

**Hey gorgeous readers!**

**How has you week been?**

**New chapter (**_**Thank god, **_**you're thinking, **_**when the hell was she going to get around to posting again? Slacker!**_**)**

**I know. I'm sorry. Beating myself up about it ;)**

**Anyhow - Enjoy!**

**Xx G**

* * *

><p><strong>17. Shared Thoughts<strong>

Hodgins glared down the barrel of his microscope. He adjusted the slide. Turned the magnification dial.

"Anything?" Wendell asked, crossing and recrossing his arms. "Can't you just play a game of 'spot the difference'?"

Hodgins smirked. "Y'know, if it were that easy, I wouldn't have a job."

"_Humph_," Wendell sounded in agreement. "Do you still need me, man? If you don't, I should probably go and continue prepping the solider for the exhibit."

"Ah, that's right," Hodgins hummed, squinting into the depths of his machine, "that's the exhibit on this Saturday night, right?"

"Yeah. Anyway, Clarke wants to swap back, so I'll go and work on that. Later man." Wendell saluted briefly, and disappeared out the door.

"He-llo there," the scientist said a few moments later, vocal expression decorated with triumph. He swabbed the sample. "I'd like to see you explain away this one, little miss Mary."

**-~B&B~-**

"So the soil samples are a match?" Cam pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

Hodgins nodded smugly. "You betcha. King of The Lab?"

"Pretty close, Hodgins. This case would be dead without you," she admitted.

"Was that a compliment?"

"Don't push it."

Brennan strode into the room, a lilting glow added to her presence.

Cam thought to mention the change in their co-worker. Decided that it was best to leave it.

"What have you found?" Brennan asked, a hopeful quality hanging onto her words.

"The soil particles on our victim, match those taken at Mary Rushmore's place," Hodgins told her.

"Can you confirm that that was where he was killed?"

Cam and Hodgins nodded.

"Is that grounds enough for an arrest?" Brennan then asked, crossing her arms.

"Depends. We don't actually have any evidence that it was Mary. The murder occurred on her property, but up until very recently, it also belonged to Evan himself, and as far as we know, it could have been anyone." Cam rubbed her forehead - an action to relieve tension. "A crazy fan...jealous ex..."

"But we know that Mary did it," Brennan stated bluntly. "Logical conjuncture concludes that Mary murdered."

"No, we don't, Dr Brennan. That is an assumption. A gut feeling. Evidence that we may have on Mary, could mean nothing; he could have hugged his wife the day that he died, and one of her loose hairs could have caught on it," her boss said with an ounce of irritation. Here was Brennan, always so opposed to 'going with her gut', yet here she was doing exactly that.

"I highly doubt a disagreeing couple, that wanted a divorce would be hugging," Brennan muttered, more so to herself than anyone else. Placing her hands on her hips, she eyed the two other occupants of the room. "What do we do now?" she asked, at loss.

"I talk to Booth," Cam replied, somewhat warily. "You don't have to call him."

"Why not? I did have lunch with him yesterday, so it isn't as if I don't want to talk to him..."

"I have to talk to him anyway. I'll do it."

Brennan frowned slightly, but didn't say another word.

Cam left.

"Does Cam have some sort of beef with me, or something?" Brennan asked Hodgins lowly, when she was sure Cam was out of earshot.

"You two are fighting?"

"That's what I was asking you..."

"I'm not getting between anything." Her friend placed his hands up in a defensive posture. "If there's something going on between the two most powerful women in this institute, then I am Switzerland, okay?"

"But you're not Switzerland," Brennan replied in confusion, "You are Jack Hodgins. I don't understand..."

"It's a saying, Dr B. Just a saying."

"What does it mean? Besides the country name definition, of course."

"When all the countries were at each other's throats in the World Wars, Switzerland was right in the middle of them all, but remained neutral. When I tell you that I am Switzerland in a catfight, I mean that I am staying out of it. I'm not taking sides."

Brennan nodded in understanding. "Thank you for elaborating."

"Sure." Hodgins fiddled with a pen on his desk, eyes down and face twisted.

"I didn't even realise we were fighting..." Brennan posed thoughtfully, rubbing her neck."What's the matter?" she asked in addition, watching him carefully, cataloguing his body language.

"That matter? Nothing is the matter. Nothing. Don't you have work to do?"

Brennan folded her arms across her chest. "I may not be apt at reading body language, but I have known you long enough to understand yours. Something is on your mind, Dr Hodgins. Please, share."

"It doesn't matter, really. It's just a thought..."

"Any thought is a thought," Brennan said, more quietly. "What is yours?" The vague response he had given, indicated that she had suspected correctly. She wondered whether Booth would have been proud of her effort to read emotional expressions.

"Are you and Booth together?" Hodgins fired quickly, wanting to purge the question before it suffocated him.

Brennan smiled.

It wasn't the usual one that she wore, every time someone would make the assumption that she had a romantic relationship with her partner. It was almost giddy. It gave an answer, though. It explained her radiant glow.

Hodgins felt a wave of giddiness himself, joyous for his long-time friend. "Really?" he asked disbelievingly, cracking a smile himself.

"I won't accept your question as a truth," she told him softly, fiddling with her shirt coyly, "I won't deny either, though."

"I'm happy for you. It's about time."

Her body shook slightly with silent laughter; almost as if it were her gesture of agreement.

"I have work to do," Hodgins said after a pause, "notes to jot and stuff...but I'll talk to you later, okay?"

She nodded, and went to exit. "Please send me a digital documentation of the results you found," she requested, over her shoulder.

"Course."

"Okay." She left abruptly then, knowing that she would have made their encounter awkward in one way or another, had she stayed any longer.

When his colleague had left, Hodgins couldn't conceal a beam from spreading across his face, and a small smirk from escaping his lips.

His wife entered the room to this image of good humour from her husband.

"What's with you?" she asked, coming to his side and rubbing a hand along his back, the other on her own abdomen.

"Bren is with Booth." His eyes twinkled warmly.

Although she had suspected as much, Angela couldn't conceal her delight, nor curiosity either. "For real? I mean, did she say so?"

"She said that she wouldn't contradict it, but she wasn't confident either...in saying that they were absolutely together. Then again, it has only been a month since Hannah and Booth split..."

"Hannah-shmannah," Angela scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "You know it doesn't take Booth long to move on."

"Ah...Angie? He never moved on from Bren."

"Yeah but that's different. They were never really _together _anyway. Regardless though, whether those two admit it or not, they are soul mates. Of course he would never get over Bren." Her eyes drifted dreamily.

Hodgins smiled and brushed the length of his wife's cheek. "You believe in everyone, don't you? Everyone gets their happy ending in your eyes, love."

She smiled gently in reply. "Jack, let's be honest here; Booth started going out with the woman Katherine, not long after something went on between him and Bren. Hannah, although very pretty and sweet, was really nothing more than a diversion in their relationship. Bren and Booth will work this out pronto – you just see."

**-~B&B~-**

"So why am I only finding out about this now?" Cam demanded, trying to maintain a serious tone, although deep down, he could hear that she was excited. Genuinely happy for them both.

"I promise, Cam. You are the first to hear; on my end, anyway. No doubt Bones has told Angela, and she has gone and told Hodgins. It will be out to the press by tomorrow, of course." Booth swapped his phone to his other ear, and pressed it to his shoulder so he could flip through the case file. Again.

"So, it's official?"

"Well..." Booth grimaced slightly, not knowing how to explain the situation exactly. "You and I both know that Bones doesn't do casual, or secret, and we both know that this won't be screamed to the roof tops...but we haven't actually discussed the _status_ of our relationship..." he trailed off, unsure. "I'm sorry, this is getting awkward for you. I'll stop."

"Honestly, Seeley. You're my friend; this isn't weird. Or awkward. If anything, it's probably good that you have someone to talk to about this, right? I mean, at least you don't have to talk to Swee-"

"Don't say his name, Cam. At the moment, he's probably the last person who needs to know about this. I know him, and I know that his version of logic and 'words of wisdom', if anything, would probably only throw Bones off, and send her into a whole wave of reasons why we _couldn't_ be together."

"Fair enough; I wouldn't be blabbing anything unstable to him either."

"Bones and I are not unstable, Camille."

"Just be careful, Big Man. You might say that, but you have to take care of her. Give her time to adjust. If you go into this way to confidently, you could lose her. You hurt her once, and I think she is still licking her wounds, so just...think about it, okay?"

"She hurt me too."

"Seeley."

"Huh."

"We're not in grade five anymore, comparing battle scars; please, do the right thing."

"And I will," Booth sighed, complying. He knew that she was right. "Okay. I have some work to do, so I thought-" he broke off when he looked up to see a smiling Brennan in the doorway of his office. "I'll catch you later, okay? You know the drill; call me if you hear anything else." He disconnected.

Back in lab, Cam smiled to herself contently, having no doubt what had caused him to cut off.

Booth, on the other hand, pushed aside his files and stood to meet his partner.

"Hey there," he greeted, trying to side a strange nervous flutter. For a fleeting moment, he realised that that feeling he experienced, was not foreign; he felt it almost every time he saw her. If it wasn't the giddiness, it was sexual frustration. Either way, it was a _good_.

"Hi," she breathed, swinging a leg slightly. "I was in the lab...and I had nothing to do, and so I was just sitting there thinking, and it...Do you want to have coffee with me?"

He laughed. "I'd love to."

"Have you got time, though?"

"I'll make time."

"Keep on pushing your schedule for the case like this, and they're going to start wondering whether anyone is solving it." She smoothed a hand against his shirt.

"Well I am sure they can wait for ten minutes. _There can be no time limit for justice_."

She smiled shyly at his quote of her own words.

"Come on," he beckoned, shrugging into his blazer. "Let's go."

They left the Hoover, and strolled towards the reflecting pool, where their coffee cart stood, as it always did.

"I might have accidentally let it slip to Hodgins that you and I were...on the way to entering a monogamous relationship," Brennan admitted as they walked, putting her hands in her pockets.

"Accidentally?"

"Well, I started smiling like a fool; I don't think I was convincing him of otherwise."

"You couldn't smile like a fool," he assured her dotingly, brushing her hand with his.

"I am certain I could," she told him surely, pulling a face. "You weren't there."

"I should have been," he smirked.

They arrived, ordered their coffees, and in the mean time, they stood off to the side.

She threw her hands up. "No doubt, wherever I am, my facial profile will deceive me. Soon the whole world is going to know about us. How do I turn it off?"

"That's not horrible, Bones," he said warmly, taking her hands in his, "you're experiencing _deep, emotional feelings_. You can't turn them off."

"It isn't love, Booth. It is a very large amount of dopamine and serotonin stimulating me." The man passed over her latte, which she accepted, and Booth's fragrant black.

"Really?" He tossed over a note for their drinks. "Keep the change," he told the man, waving a nonchalant hand.

"Yes," Brennan answered singularly as they walked away.

"Fine." He moved so closely to her, that she thought he might as well have been welded to her. After placing a deep, chaste kiss on her lips, he stood back.

She flushed.

"So what was that?" he asked huskily, staring into the depths of her sincere blue eyes.

"T-that was..."

He placed a hand over her heart.

"Do you feel that?" he whispered, almost so quietly she didn't here.

"Feel what?" she stammered, heart pounding and ears ringing dizzily.

"_Your_ heart."

"I can-"

"You pulse is racing. Your eyes are glowing. You can't stop smiling. I bet you think about me, when we're not together-"

"But I did that anyway," she interrupted quickly.

He pressed the fingers of his free hand, not holding the coffee, to her lips. "You can't deny that feeling of warmness all over you," he continued gently. "That isn't just any old chemical, Bones. This isn't science. This is _you_ falling in _love_."

She smiled. "Maybe it is."

"Maybe?"

She shrugged, and her smile grew wider.

"I give that beautiful speech," he said, beginning to walk again, "and you give me a _maybe_."

"Shall I never satisfy you, Mr Booth?"

"Maybe."

She reached out and tugged his ear affectionately.

As they moved back towards Hoover, his phone paged.

Hissing, he held it to his ear. After slipping it back into his pocket when he was done, he looked at his partner ruefully.

"Cops out Mary Rushmore's way caught her trying to skip town," he told her quickly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"For someone who is in possession of quite a lot of money, and is the prime suspect in a murder investigation, you would think she had more brains than to leave town; it only raises more suspicion on her behalf."

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think that she didn't kill them."

Brennan gawked. "Have you lost your mind? Evidence points at her, Booth. She is weird, and..."

"But that's just it; yes, she _is_ weird. Yes there _is_ a hair and a soil sample that points the finger towards her...but I _don't_ think she did it. And when we put fourth this profile towards Sweets, I think you'll find that he might just agree with me."

"So you believe Mary Rushmore didn't do it." It wasn't a question Brennan posed, it was a statement.

"Yes." He seemed confident.

"Is that just because she looks like Hannah?" she supposed inoffensively.

"What? No! What the hell, Bones?"

"I was just wondering!" Brennan replied defensively. "It appears that your personal life intertwines more and more with your work these days; I just wonder whether your opinion on the case may be swayed because the prime suspect looks like your ex lover."

Booth emptied the rest of his coffee into his mouth, swallowed, and threw the cup neatly into a nearby rubbish bin.

"Bones, I can understand why you would think that my personal life gets caught up in work, but that is no reason to run off on tangents suggesting that my professional judgment is tainted by the appearance of this woman. I have a hunch, and nothing more. I made it _pretty_ clear yesterday that Hannah is no longer in my life, and I never intend her to be again, so I can't believe that _you_ still believe that I am tied to her."

"I'm sorry. But my conjuncture is not ridiculous. It was merely a logical suggestion. It makes sense."

"Well, suggest less. You only get snapped at, when you make the wrong one." He continued walking at a hasty pace.

She remained.

After a few strides, he realised that she wasn't following him anymore. He turned. "What's the matter?" he demanded.

She exhaled sharply through gritted teeth. "I'm sick of fighting. I'm sick of having these great moments, and then having them ruined. I understand that I overstepped the boundaries, suggesting that you were conflicted on this case because of the way Mary looks, but I am sick to death of you snapping at me whenever I mention Hannah's name. _She_ was not my fault. Cut it out. If you and I are going to make a relationship work, then some things have _got_ to change." Brennan took one last sip of her coffee, and shoved it into another bin. "Okay?"

"Okay." He took a deep, calming breath, and a serene composure melted into his presence. "But you have gotta understand that, yeah, I get defensive about Hannah, because a great part of me, kicks myself for ever allowing her into my life. I will talk about her, but she is in the past. It has been a month, and the sting of her betrayal is still raw, but you have got to let me get over it, okay? It feels as though every time you bring her up, you're trying to force a reaction from me. It's like you want me to feel sorry in front of you. Do you want me to apologize? Is that it? Do you want me to apologize for-"

His phone buzzed again.

_Of course,_ Brennan thought irately, _it always has to sound at just the right moment. _

Booth answered. Hummed a few responses. Fired a few questions.

Brennan, whom would normally hang of every word, was too lost in her own thoughts to hardly pay attention.

When he finished, Booth pointed a finger at her.

"This conversation, isn't over," he told her sternly, waving the finger in a gesture. "I really have to go back, but don't think I am going to forget this. I will find you."

She nodded understandingly. "Do you need my assistance? Is it anything that you need to consult with me about?"

Booth shook his head. "Blake's coming into questioning. Sweets is observing, and I am interrogating. You don't need to come."

"But I always do."

Booth shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, you do-"

"So why can't I come? I might be of use to you. I might be able to loosen his tongue-" She cut of abruptly when Booth grasped her shoulders.

"You are _not_ and interrogation tool," he said roughly, but softened when he read the alarm and regret in her eyes. "I really don't like idea of your seducing a psychotic, seedy freak."

"I wouldn't be _seducing_," she argued, completely missing where he was coming from. "I'd be enticing. Or _'bending his arm'_, with a hint of beguilement if you would prefer-"

"_No._" Booth almost _growled_.

"_Why_ not?"

"Because I won't have you putting yourself out there like that."

"Why? You have no sway over what course of action I choose to-"

"For heaven's sakes, Bones. I will not watch you be a tease for that creep, okay? I won't. You're _mine_, and no one else..."

She shook off his hold. "You don't _own_ me!" Her chest rose with the heavy breaths she took. She was upset.

"You know what I mean," he whispered almost inaudibly, eyes burning protectively. Without another word, he walked away.

She stood paralysed, hands hanging uselessly by her sides as she watched him walk away.

* * *

><p><strong>No chapter comment at the bottom of this one: but you are more than welcome to leave one. =)<strong>

**_**(How about the new promo for season seven, huh? Cute! If there's some form of news relating to Bones, I'm bound to sniff it out!)**_**

**(I will quickly thank my reviewers and new favouriters and alerters – thank you guys!)**

**Next chapter will be along soon =)**

**Xx G**


	18. Confession Closed

**Hello All!**

**I tried to get this up as quickly as I could.**

**Feedback and suggestions are still very greatly appreciated, so do feel welcome to suggest.**

**Enjoy!**

**Xx G**

* * *

><p><strong>18. Confession. Closed.<strong>

"Mary...You understand why we brought you in for interrogation before your brother, don't you?" Booth flipped open his notepad. "We were going to just bring your brother in, but when we heard you were skipping town...we thought you might have a bit more to say."

The suspect shrugged.

"I don't think that you did this," Booth told the suspect gently, ignoring Sweets' probing words in his ear.

"Why not? Everyone else thinks that I did," she sulked, shoulders rounded in defeat. "I get it; I come across as a cold-hearted, stiff bitch. Fair enough; I've had that thrown at me my whole life."

Booth took a deep, unnecessary breath. "Mary. You didn't do this. But someone did."

"Why do you think it wasn't me?" Mary asked.

"_That's interesting,"_ Sweets spoke into Booth's earpiece. "_She seems to want you to believe that it was her. She's shouldering the blame for someone else."_

"Even I could have picked that," Booth muttered in reply to the psychologist.

"Sorry?" Mary's forehead creased in confusion.

"Nothing, Mrs Rushmore. Listen; I know that you're hiding something. I seem to be pretty well-renown for my 'gut feelings', and I just have this one about you. This is the third time you have come into an interrogation, without a lawyer, might I add. I interested concerning your intentions."

Mary shrugged. "I really don't do that." She flipped her hair-iron induced waves. "I wasn't born rich, and my father taught me to stick up to myself. I prefer not to pretend to be something I'm not."

"But you do," Booth countered, crossing a leg. "Every day, when you put on your makeup, and parade around your mansion."

"It was never _my_ mansion, Agent Booth. It belonged to my late husband, Nicholas. Before that, it was entitled to his wife as well. When he disappeared, without a trace, and was declared dead, the house was left to me in the will. Unfortunately, for others, the fortune wasn't going to go to me, other than the house."

"What do you mean _'others'_?"

"_Very good, Agent Booth_," Sweets praised in his ear.

"My only inheritance was from my first husband, Giles," Mary said plainly. "Unfortunately for my _brother_," she hissed, biting the insides of her cheeks, "nothing was going to come from Evan either. But I didn't care about that. It always has to be about the money, doesn't it? Am I never allowed to marry someone, simply because I love them?"

Booth waited for Sweets to give an insight. Nothing came. He heaved another breath. "Are you suggesting that your brother expects to cash in from you, when your husbands die?"

Mary bit her lip and shrugged. "I know that I am cold, okay? But I never wanted it to be like this. I can't take it anymore. I just wanted to be in his life. I never wanted to marry Giles. My brother set that up; he was rich, I was young and pretty...for a while, it sort of worked. But then he disappeared. I truly believed that I loved Nicholas, my second husband. He was a beautiful man, and I adored his daughters. When he disappeared without a trace too, something just...changed inside me. I became cold. I didn't care anymore. I let him push me around." Mary drooped her head. "You should have met me before then," she almost whispered, "you would have like me."

Booth outstretched a hand and pointed down on the table. "You can tell me, Mary. You need to tell me."

"I met Evan at a convention. It was a rich convention; I was wearing _Dolce and Gabana_, _Chanel_ perfume, and I enticed him. He proposed to me a couple of months later. I accepted. We were married. He had the potential to make it in the music industry, and I could already sense my brother sniffing out the word 'fortune' on him. On the day that he...well...my brother asked him to come out to the winery, and work with him, he declared it was for 'brotherly bonding'. Fat load of crap; my brother has never worked in his life. Anyway, I don't know what happened exactly, but Josh thought it was pretty hilarious that he convinced Evan to get into a water tank filled with carbon dioxide. He came back to my property...and..."

"And what?"

"A few weeks ago, I was intent on rebuilding a few cross-country training jumps. I had a water jump, but it wasn't really safe anymore, so I decided to fill it in. That is where my brother buried Evan. Evan, who was deeply unconscious, and already on his way to dying, was buried alive. I just wanted out of it. All of it. The next day, when I found out what had really happened, I dug up Evan, took him to the winery, and I dumped him there. I wanted him to deal with it for once. Josh murdered him. I was sick of feeling like it was always me that had to deal with it. I didn't do it." Mary's eyes welled. "I thought that I could be strong enough. I wrapped him in a blanket, so I wouldn't look at his face. I just..." Mary cut off, eyes spilling over and hands trembling.

"Why did you try and skip town?" Booth asked quietly.

"I tried to leave," she blubbered, wiping her nose with her sleeve, "because I knew that my brother would somehow fool you into believing it was me that murdered him. Evidence would have pointed to me, and you would have a accused _me_. He came to me last night, and threatened me. He hit me." She rolled back the cotton covering her shoulders. Bruises. "So I ran," she continued. "If you look closely enough, and someone points it out, you will understand that it was _him_. It has always _been_ him. Josh was the only person with Evan that day. No one saw them, because Josh is sneaky like that. It's how he got away with the others. Have a criminal mother, and you learn a thing or two."

"You realise that we're going to have to charge you with interfering with-"

"I know, Agent Booth. I know that I will probably have to go to jail. I know." She exhaled sharply. "...Why wasn't I good enough for him? I am his little sister, and I just wanted to be in his life. But like our mother before us, all he wanted was money. That got her killed. At the end of the day, no matter how much I wanted a family, it made me realise that I wanted that fate for him to."

Booth just nodded.

"Evidence...proof, anything that you want," she said lowly, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I'll give you what you want. I don't want to see him ever again."

"Thank you, Mrs Rushmore."

She smiled weakly. "If there is an upside to this horrible mess...No matter how pear-shaped this all went...and no matter where I have to go from here, for two years, I was part of a family. I got to be a mom."

Again, Booth bobbed his head silently. At that moment, silence was the best answer.

They could prove that Blake committed not only one murder, but three. There would be closure for more than one family.

**-~B&B~-**

_Three Days Later..._

"Case closed!" Booth exploded, grin spreading from ear to ear.

Cam returned his smile, and clinked her glass against his beer bottle. "I bet you're feeling good about this one, hey?"

"Mmm. I've had worse, but I just _reall_y hated this one."

"How did you get him locked up for three murders?" Cam asked, popping a nibble into her mouth.

"After the confession from Mary about Evan, she peeped about the whereabouts of Kevin, and then, very emotionally, she revealed the resting place of Nicholas. I think she actually loved the guy, in her own, twisted way." Booth took a swig of his beer.

"You had enough evidence? I have to admit, I was a little hurt that you didn't need our help for the rest of it."

"We're FBI, Cam. Some matters just don't need your assistance. We had enough." He realised that he had offended her, as soon as the reply tumbled out. "Sorry," he amended, "you guys are really great. It was a rare occasion that we didn't need you."

"Fair enough, Big Man. I know you mean well."

He smiled gratefully. "So how's the prepping going for the exhibit?"

"Final touches. It is on tonight, at ten, mind you. You are coming, aren't you?"

"You bet. Nice suit and all."

Cam smirked at his good humour, but her face fell simultaneously. "Have you spoken to Dr Brennan?"

He didn't reply.

Cam couldn't make any sense of it. "You two fought again, didn't you?"

"Camille-"

"Fine, I didn't say a word. Three days, though? Come on."

"I'll see her tonight. We've gone without talking for much longer."

His friend raised her glass to her lips. "Ah, that's right; last time you two didn't talk to each other, was when you ran away for a year. You're not running this time, though, are you?"

Booth slumped his shoulders. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Camille. I don't. It feels as though every day I get worse at the job I do, and the life I live."

"Kill the depressants, Booth. You know that's not true. You are a brilliant cop, and you only just broke up with a woman you considered spending the rest of your life with, so cut yourself some slack; you're just feeling sorry for yourself now."

Booth rolled his eyes. "If you weren't so right, I think I would have hit you."

"Don't hit me; I could take you myself."

"_Humph_."

Cam sipped her wine, and settled it down. "My advice, for what it's worth; you loved Hannah. Your relationship ended abruptly because she abused your trust. Her obsession to know every aspect of your life – so you had nothing with anyone else – ruined your relationship. Whether you like it or not, you're going to have to acknowledge that, even though it was at her fault that the relationship ended, you were hanging out for a reason to break up with her. Any relationship didn't linger after you broke up, because there was nothing else _there. _You and I, when we separated, remained on good terms because we were friends. You weren't _friends_ with Hannah. When you and Brennan could have taken a step further, you were able to remain partners because you love each other so much. You couldn't bear to lose each other."

Booth grasped Cam's hand.

"...And I think that you're still struggling with Hannah, because part of you feels the guilt for putting all of blame on her," Cam continued, holding his eyes. "If you wanna make it work with Tempe, then you've got to let it all go. If you're done with Hannah, then really finish it. Write a her letter – _Facebook_ her...I don't know, be poetic about it. But your relationship ended badly, so if you want let her go, you have got finish it on better terms. Have closure," she concluded, squeezing his hand. "At the end of the day, Seeley...you'll know what to do." She pulled away from his hold, emptied her wine glass, and collected her handbag and coat. "I have to go and get ready with Paul...but at that function tonight? There is going to be a beautiful woman, who is going to be there, waiting for you." She kissed him goodbye on the cheek. "Do the right thing by her."

Booth watched his best friend leave, with an overwhelming feel of adoration. Cam knew him so well, and she knew which spots to hit.

Closure. That, he would see to do.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for staying with me, everyone. Sorry about ending the case abruptly, but it had to be done. I'm not one to hang onto every aspect of the case, because the only science I know is what I learn in school! <em>(and Bones!) <em>Haha textbook kid...I know ;)**

**For all those who want to see the Bones Season 7 Promo 2 – here is the link: **

**.com/watch?v=6z5UxwzZl-0**

**(That is the link in Aus, but I imagine it should work for all other countries) xx**

**If anyone else needs the links for the older two, PM me, and I'll give them to you x**

**Next Chapter up soon!**

**Xx G**


	19. A Drop In The Ocean

**Hello Readers!**

**Okay, so after a bit of tossing and turning last night, I settled on the decision to re-write this chapter. A couple of reviews (**_**really, thank you so much**_**) made me realise that I needed to get more of a focus on a good reason for Booth to let her down. Also, by rewriting this chapter, it has opened to a better story. This new chapter really is so much better; I'm sorry for stuffing you around! Still new at this, and I'm still making a mess of things! :S**

**I am so sorry for screwing up: I promise I won't post another chapter again, unless I am 110% about it.**

**Thank you for staying with me, everyone, and again, I'm so sorry.**

**Xx G**

* * *

><p><strong>19. A Drop In The Ocean<strong>

Folding the paper into three, he slid it inside the envelope, sealed it, and at last, felt relief. He could move on.

Moving through the living room, and settling the addressed letter with his pile of others to post, the reflection of a familiar frame caught his eye. Smiling, Booth realised that, regardless of his relationship with Hannah, the photograph of he and Brennan had never moved. They smiled at the camera, arm in arm, coffees in hand. It was another of Angela's shots.

Hannah would have had to have seen that photograph every day; she would have had to have seen the undeniable love that the two partners shared. At that moment, he accepted his ex's insecurities; who wouldn't have felt intimidated by something as significant as this picture of clear affection?

Taking the frame in his hands, he sunk down to the couch and gazed at it. He took in every aspect of her pretty face. The stubborn set if her jaw, the soft blush of her cheeks...and her eyes. The glittering luminosity of the blue iris'.

No doubt, both women were great people, in their own way. But there was a fine line of definition.

Hannah was 'hot'. But that was all.

Temperance Brennan, however - while people called her hot - he knew that she had an air of beauty. She was elegant. At heart, compassionate. Loyal. She was _beautiful_, inside out. There was a difference there.

"What was it that Bones had said?" he whispered aloud to himself. "That the peacock with the shiniest bobbles, and brightest feathers was the one that was always noticed. You said to me once that you looked past that, and saw the one who was real. You said that you saw me." He brushed his fingers across the glass that covered the smiling image of them both. "So why did it take me song long to see _you_?"

Glancing at his watch some time later, he countered that it was probably time to leave. Running his tongue over his teeth, examining for any food bits, he decided on a quick once-over with the toothbrush.

As the water gushed down the sink, and he squirted the toothpaste onto the little brush head, his cell sounded.

Still holding onto the toothbrush in one hand, and retrieving his phone with the other, her pushed the cell up to his ear and answered.

"This is Seeley Booth."

The person on the other line introduced themselves, and stated their purpose for calling.

Blood ringing in his ears, and flushing in panic, he looked up to meet his own reflection in horror.

The toothbrush clattered into the sink.

.

**-~B&B~-**

.

"Hey, beautiful," Angela appraised as Brennan entered The Jeffersonian that evening.

Her friend blushed prettily, and removed her trench.

"You look beautiful," she told her, admiring the striking contrast her friend displayed in her navy blue _Ralph Lauren_ piece. The length of the dress rested above the knees, modestly showed off her full cleavage, and had a flattering body cut that snugged at waist, but hung loosley down.

Brennan dipped her head, and although her face glowed colourfully with the carefully applied makeup, she knew that Angela could perceive the pale drawness hidden behind the foundation.

"Hello, my two beautiful ladies," Hodgins murmured, placing a quick kiss on Angela's lips, and another on Brennan's hand. "Shall I escort you both in?"

"I have to wait for Booth." Brennan turned her attention to the doorway.

"Has he spoken to you?" Angela asked.

"Not since three days." She looked doubtful for a moment, but she straightened herself and gave them a reasssuring look. "He said that he would come to this. He promised that he would be here before the band started...before I did my speech."

"Okay," her friend replied softly, taking her husband's arm. "We'll be in the expo room. Don't be too long, sweetie."

Brennan nodded and folded her arms across her chest.

Minutes passed. She began to pace. She glanced at her delicate dress watch around her wrist. _Ten-thirty_.

"C'mon Booth," she murmured quietly, watching the dark night for any sign that he was on his way. "Where are you?"

Yet more time passed. He was absent still.

"Dr Brennan?" Cam's cautious voice came from behind her. "You've been out here for almost an hour...it's time to make your speech."

Brennan's heart fell. Blinking roughly against the moisture that threatened in her eyes, she took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'm ready when you are," she replied evenly.

Cam motioned a following hand, and turned away.

The beautiful anthropologist threw one last look over her shoulder. The entrance remained empty.

Swallowing hard, she followed her boss to the sea of waiting people.

.

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

"Why am I only finding out about this now? I mean what the hell-"

"Seeley, please, calm down. I-I didn't know what to do," Rebecca interrupted him, her voice heightened with worry. "I took him to emergency in the hospital, they told me that he had two hernia's where his intestines are. Normally, they said they would wait to perform the...but his condition..."

"So, let me get this straight," Booth hissed, shutting off the water and storming out of his bathroom. "You take care of our son every day, and you don't even notice when he is seriously sick?"

"The doctor said that, if I didn't know what I was looking for, it could have been easy to miss."

Booth took a deep, shaky breath. "When? When are they going to do it?"

"They want to do it right away, Booth. They don't want to take any chances. I promise you; I called you as soon as they told me."

Booth ripped his car keys from the hook by the door, and shoved his wallet into his pocket.

"I'm on my way right now, Bec," he told her as sanely as he could. "Tell the little man that I'm coming."

"I will, Seeley," she replied quickly, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

He disconnected and headed for hospital emergency, with the help of his sirens.

**.**

**_-~B&B~-_**

**_._**

"For the past two months, my grad students have been working tirelessly to perfect the exhibition you see tonight," Brennan told the crowd, all the while, eyes scanning the room for the only guest she wanted to see. "Their skills, and dedication are a great compliment to them. When my own assistant, Zack Addy, was deemed no longer fit to work by my side, I was devastated, and concerned that no one else could fill his shoes. Looking at these fine young people before me, I realise that, although they may not be Zack, they are something else entirely. I couldn't have been more proud to have these young citizens work with me, and each of them offers such great insight to so many of our cases and works, that some others could never do." She smiled down at Wendell, Clarke, Vincent, Fisher and Daisy. "Many hours have gone into researching, prepping and perfecting what you see tonight, so, as you work your way around the exhibition tonight, drink some champagne and have a dance..I ask that you recognise these people for their wonderful work." Brennan took the scissors in her hand, and brought them up to the ribbon. "On behalf of The Jeffersonian insitute, I open _The American Civil War_ exhibition for the public." The red ribbon fluttered to the floor, and the room erupted into applause. Nodding, Brennan stepped down from the mic, as the room slipped into loud, merry chatter, and the jazz band picked up.

Angela met her with a glass of champagne.

"I hope that isn't for you," Brennan said immediately, giving her friend a disapproving look.

"No," Angela chuckled, placing a hand on her womb and giving it a rub. "I will go and retrieve an orange juice in a moment. This," she pointed to the glass, "is for you."

"Thanks Ange."

She passed Brennan the glass, and offered a small smile. "Where's Booth?"

Brennan's eyes clouded. "I don't know. I understand that we were still in the midst of a quarrel, but I am pained that he wouldn't come tonight." She sighed a wince. "Had everything been alright between us, I would have imagined the night to have gone far differently. Alas, I must have offended him worse than I though I did." Brennan took a huge mouthful of champagne, and hardly grimaced as the large dose of alcohol passed down her throat.

"What did you say to him, sweetie?"

Brennan shrugged. Took another sip. "I brought up Hannah again. I said that his professional judgement was clouded by the fact that our prime suspect resembled Hannah. Anyway,"- another gulp of alcohol was consumed -"apparently it wasn't alright for me to make such assumptions, no matter how innocent the intent had been."

Soon Brennan's glass was empty, and she was looking around for a waiter.

"So...you think him not showing up tonight, is his way of breaking up with you, or something?" Angela supposed, watching her friend with concern.

"I sincerely hope not. But that is what it feels like."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because...I know that tonight wasn't important in terms of myself, it was rather the fact that he made a promise, and he didn't keep it. Even when we argue, he is always the better man, and pulls through-" A waiter passed with a tray of beverages, and Brennan quickly swiped another glass.

Angela looked at her friend sadly.

"I always knew that I wasn't going to be good enough for him," Brennan stated, and she began to stroll through the crowd of chatting people.

Her pregnant friend kept up as best she could. "Bren, you've always been good enough for him. Always. He wouldn't stand you up like this, either, so something is probably up."

She received nothing but another dismissive shrug. "For crying out loud," she moaned in frustration. "Bren. Talk to me."

Brennan took off towards the darker parts of the building, and, when they were away from watching eyes, or attentive ears, she whirled around.

"It's my fault," she admitted tearfully. "I was wrong, and I feel pathetic for doubting him. There won't be one day, where I will not be comparing myself to Hannah Burley for the rest of my life. And, I will, because I am _not_ her. I am not what Booth _wants_. And Booth wanted _her_."

Angela put out a comforting hand, but it was refused.

"He hasn't spoken to me since the case ended," Brennan continued, tears seeping over the corners of her eyes. "He was right about it, and I was wrong. Believe me...if he hadn't wished to talk to me before tonight, then rationally speaking, he wouldn't have come this evening." She slummed against the cold concrete wall. "Which he didn't. He hasn't come. I ruined it," she whispered, "I _always_ _ruin it_."

Angela wanted to support her friend with words, but the right ones wouldn't surface. She settled for putting an arm around her best friend, who leaned into her, emotionally drained**.**

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

"Thank you, Dr Brennan," Daisy Wick chimed ecstatically. "Your commendation was most invigorating."

Brennan plastered a smile, and put a hand on her grad student's shoulder. "You did an exceptional job, Miss Wick. I am proud of you." She was sure the young woman would have fainted, had she not been in amongst of such a flux of exiting people.

Sweets, who stood by his girlfriend's elbow, watch his friend appraisingly, trying to read the hurt he saw behind her eyes, but all the same, remaining perfectly in character as his girlfriend received praise.

"It's late," she then told the younger two, "I should be going soon, and so should you. We will talk again soon."

She maintained her position at the door, farewelling guests and fellow co-workers, although it probably wasn't necessary. A small part of her hope that one of the passing people would be Booth.

She had managed a short goodbye to Angela and Hodgins, a brief wave to Cam and a smile to other assistants of hers. Eventually, when they were all gone, she was the last.

He wasn't there.

Grasping onto her coat and purse, she stormed out into the evening, which was chilled but the lateness of the hour.

She had waited for him. For an hour in the foyer. All night.

He hadn't come. Booth had promised, and he hadn't shown. He had broken a promise to her.

Her chest felt tight, and her throat thick. She wanted to stay composed, but found that it was a losing battle. Her stride quickened, and she felt her knees weaken.

The tears began to fall in streaming flows at first.

She found herself allowing her belongings to clatter to the ground hopelessly, and she sunk against her car weakly. Clutching her torso with one arm, she covered her mouth with the other to muffle the painful sobs that erupted from her lips.

**.**

**-~B&B~- **

**.**

Booth gazed at his sleeping boy with an overwhelming sensation of love. Parker had had the operation, was on the mend, and could otherwise continue life as normal.

He couldn't help revisiting what he had felt, when he had answered the phone, and it had been Rebecca telling him that Parker was being prepped for surgery. She hadn't explained a _what_, and a _when_, before he felt the cold fear trickle down his spine, and the sickness had overcome him. He had been dizzied by the image of his little boy attached to tubes.

Now that the horrors were over, however, and he was cramped sleepily in the armchair by his son's bed, he couldn't help but feel the stinging regret of what the night could have been like, in an alternate light.

He closed his eyes for a moment, thoughts full of the woman he loved. That night, he had wanted so badly to take her in his arms, and say that he would do whatever he could to be in her life. Unlike their murmured vows of love, from that night they had shared in bed a month ago, he had planned to profess his devoted heart to her. Tears of joy would have slipped from her eyes, his own would have welled, and he would have taken her home with him. He would have made love to her.

The dream had shattered, though, like a glass to tiles, and he had not only broken his promise to her, but probably her heart, too. He understood Brennan's tendancy to jump to conclusions when it came to 'people' situations. When it was anything to do with work, she was thorough, careful and just.

Emotionally though, Brennan would have jumped to the conclusion that he was still angry with her.

To be honest, he had no idea what thoughts would have gathered and processed in her mind, but he had a feeling that his son wouldn't be the only thing mending in his life.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the first few moments of a new day ticked into motion, and he drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>So, parts of the chapter remained the same, but I hope you agree that I made a good decision in changing the flow of this chapter. I definately thought I did.<strong>

**Please don't hate me. I would really appreciate it if you told me what you think – please, be nice. I know I'm horrible at this, but I am trying. Promise!**

**Thank you for staying with me; really. I know that there are really dedicated readers out there, who are supporting me, and I promise you – I don't really make it by without you (**_**alexindigo, forever-a-bonehead**_** – you guys know that your support means the world to me!)**

**Thank you x**

**Xx G**


	20. One Brick to Build A Wall

**_A/N:_**

_Hey there readers! I was overwhelmed by my dedicated reviewers last chapter - I think the majority of you prefered the new chapter, which I am thankful for, because it means that we're all on the same page._

_I am so pleased by all of you who are staying around to hear the story out; it makes it all worth it, when I know the story is being read. If you are enjoying it, don't be shy to put in your thoughts :)_

_Anyway - thank you again, all (big thanks again to dedicated readers **alexindigo** and **forever-a-bonehead** - your support is so great!)_

_Okay - Enjoy!_

_Xx G_

* * *

><p><strong>20. One Brick to Build A Wall<strong>

_Soft_. The Egyptian cotton of her white sheets felt smooth beneath the touch of her weighted palms. She balled her outstretched hand into a fist, clutching for power, but releasing the tension when it gave.

Brennan felt weakly all over.

Closing her stiff eyes, she inhaled and exhaled slowly, concentrating on the gravity of each breath she took.

Once upon a time, she had been comforted by the thought that, no matter what happened, she would be okay. She could depend on herself. Although the future consisted of a near infinite number of variables, she was strong enough to pull through it on her own. Now, she felt as though she had lost that reserve of imperviousness. She felt weaker, and it frightened her.

Since she had arrived home later that night, she had slept restlessly, and tossed and turned all through the early hours of the morning.

It was now nearing half-past ten in the new day, and she had no desire to rouse from her bed.

It felt as though the fight wasn't left in her anymore.

It wasn't truly the fact that he had missed her speech; hell, it was no more than a commendation to her interns. She had just wanted to be with him, publicly. She had been dressed prettily, wearing _Dior_ perfume, and slowly recovering a part of herself she had thought had been forgotten. Had it been so wrong of her to want something that she would normally never breach?

His neglect at keeping in contact with her, stung as well. He had so firmly told her that their argument hadn't been over, yet it was left to simmer, and go along unanswered.

She was so confused.

It was as if Booth had one foot in the pool, the other out, and couldn't decided whether to cannon-ball in and allow himself to get wet, or to shy away, and leave the surface untouched.

Had she really infuriated him so much, as to lose him? Whenever they had fought before, he had always been there. No matter what. He was always there for her. They got over it.

They fought like two siblings; petty. Other times, they fought heatedly like two lovers. Regardless, the issues were always resolved, because deep down, they didn't mean to offend one another. Deep down, they loved each other.

Bringing her hand to her face, Brennan felt it coat with thin moisture. Sighing again, she rolled over.

At that moment, a faint buzz from the door, broke her from her sorrows.

Her heart fluttered for a fleeting moment, when she realised that is could be her partner. Stumbling out of bed, she tossed her white robe around her and padded to the door.

Peeking through the hole, instead of her face faltering as it would have, she was more than happy than happy to see her best friend, holding a paper bag and two smoothie cups.

She switched the lock and peeped out.

"Banana and honey smoothie?" Angela offered brightly, holding up the two drinks. "I even brought croissants. How many friendship brownie points do I get?"

"I don't know what that means..."

Angela laughed and invited herself in. "You only just got up then, didn't you?" she asked over her shoulder as she waddled to the kitchen.

"What if I did?"

"Then I would say you're making process," Angela replied simply, fetching two plates from the cupboard.

"Progress, how? I have been immobilised all morning-"

"Too literal, sweetie. I mean that, emotionally, this is exactly how you're supposed to respond to situations like this. You're supposed to wallow in self pity for a day, devour a container of chocolate ice-cream, and watch a bunch of movies with your best girlfriend."

Brennan frowned. "It sounded like you made reason then, but it didn't sound like a very productive way of coping."

"I promise you, Bren. It's the way to go."

"I will accept your ideal."

"Good." She pulled out two large croissants, and pulled the cutlery draw open, hunting out a knife. "Have you got jam and butter?"

Brennan smiled and opened her fridge, retrieving the two desired spreads, and setting them down by her friend.

"You go and have a shower," Angela ordered, waving off her friend as she put the croissants on a tray to be reheated.

Her friend complied, and ten or so minutes later, Brennan returned just as the breakfast choices were coming out of the oven, towel piled atop her head, wearing an taupe coloured hopsack trapeze jacket, a white cotton singlet, dark jeans and white socks.

Angela appraised her appearance. "Where did you get the top?"

"The elastic-material singlet? It was from Target."

"What? No. The jacket..._top_."

"Oh, I bought it from a mixed label shop down town," she replied, grapping the part behind her neck, and craning to read it's label. "_Twelfth Street_ by a designer named _Cynthia Vincent_," she read. "Do you like it?"

"I do. Very snazzy."

"_Snazzy?_"

"Y'know, Bren...ah, flashy. Fancy. You always dress well, sweetie. I if I wasn't bloating like a baloon right now, I'd still like, half of your wardrobe."

Brennan smiled softly, and swung her hands by her sides. "What are we going to watch?"

"Where do you keep your movies?"

"In the cabinet, across the room. Would you like to pick one?"

"Love to." Angela set the two croissants in front of Brennan, and strolled to her destination. "Wow," she mouthed, when she opened the cupboard, pointing gapingly at the collection. "Where did you get all of these?"

Brennan shrugged as she spread butter across their food. "I don't know. I just read the reviews in the paper, and bought them. I've never watched them though."

"You haven't even opened _The Notebook_," Angela gasped in mock horror, turning with the DVD in hand. "How could you have _not_ seen this?"

"Like I said," Brennan laughed defensively, "I just buy them, but I never find the time to sit down and watch them."

"Ugh. Sweetie, you work way too much."

Brennan found herself smirking silently in agreement. When she had coated the croissants with strawberry jam too, she brought them to the kitchen table.

"Where are the remotes for the TV?" Angela asked.

"Coffee table. Where the phone home base is."

"I still can't believe you got a TV," she muttered as she fumbled for the devices. "Are you sure you're still the same person?"

Brennan pinched herself. "I think so." She laughed with Angela, before adding with a hint of amusement, "did you know that every ten years of a person's life, every cell in their body will have changed, so when you turn twenty, you're not the same person you were when you were ten?"

"Well that's a little weird."

"It's science."

"Yeah." Angela seemed absent minded at that point.

"What's wrong?"

"You've got one new message. It's from quarter past ten, last night."

"Could you please play it, Ange?"

"Yeah." Angela tapped the button.

"_Hey, Bones, it's Booth," _the machine played.

Brennan's heart faltered, and her hands began to clam with sweat.

"_I tried your mobile, but I couldn't get through, so I tried your home phone. I know that you're probably already at the function, anyway...but something has happened. I'm at the city hospital-" _The message cut off abruptly.

Brennan met Angela's eyes in alarm.

Her friend's eyes didn't hold the desperate answers she wanted.

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

White roof. Soft walls. Distant sounds; cars whizzing past below, distant ambulances whirring to save lives...the odd bird.

Normal sounds. Normal paces.

Everything seemed to be moving at a pace he didn't want to keep up with.

Stretching his legs out, Booth winced when he felt the jab of pain fire up his backside; the result of falling asleep in an armchair. _Hospital_ armchair, add that.

He eyes wandered over to his sleeping son, whom had hardly stirred since his last dose of pain antidotes. It was a slow process, and although he wanted to be there for his little boy, he needed to shower and change. He needed food, and something stronger than water.

But he didn't want to leave his side, either. He didn't want him to wake alone.

Pressing a thumb against his temple, and rubbing his forehead, he inhaled and exhaled very heavily.

"That was a big sigh," a soft voice said quietly from the doorway, and there was a rustle of something metal clinking together. Keys.

The relief and wave of love he simultaneously felt the moment he heard her voice, was so overwhelming.

He wanted to burst into tears. He wanted to crush her in a hug. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her in frustration - for all of the petty comments she made without thinking, or for the fact that she didn't get his message any sooner.

She was here though, and despite everything, he was so grateful for that gift.

His eyes drifted open, and he lifted his head.

Her hair was damp, her soft bag slouched over a shoulder – which she held in place with a hand, and her other, clasped her collection of keys.

"Hi," she breathed, ever soft.

He stood carefully, still wary of his back, and took a few steps towards her. She too, stepped towards him, but after two strides, she hastened, and enveloped him grippingly in her arms.

He hugged her tightly in return, burying his face in her clean hair.

"How are you?" Brennan murmured, releasing her arms from around his neck, and resting back down onto flat feet again.

"I'm doing alright," he replied quietly, glancing from his son, back to his partner.

"You look terrible. You've been here all night?"

_What kind of question was that?_ He thought a little irately. Then, aloud, "you can tell?"

"Yes, you're-"

"Sarcasm, Bones."

She pressed her lips together and nodded once.

"Have you eaten?" she asked after a moment.

He shook his head.

She dropped her keys in her bag, and rustled about for her wallet.

"What are you doing?" he asked, when she left her bag behind, and went to the door.

"I'm getting you something to eat and drink." _Now, who was asking the stupid questions? _

Quarter of an hour later, she returned with a paper bag, a coffee and juice.

"Bones, you didn't get anything for yourself," he objected, when she began to hand him food.

"Juice is for me; I missed out on my banana smoothie when I came here. Coffee is for you, because you need a fix of it."

"So you only got my message this morning?"

"I didn't check the answering machine when I got in last night. I was preoccupied otherwise."

"You brought someone home with you?" he asked roughly.

"No, Booth! I was upset. Listening to my messages wasn't a top priority."

"And this morning?"

"I was wallowing in self pity for the majority of it, until Angela showed up." She used her friend's phrase, figuring that it applied to what she had been doing. Her eyes travelled to his son, who, while pale, slept peacefully. Pain-antidote-induced, no doubt, but she was relieved that he was resting.

When she had reported to the desk just under half an hour prior, Brennan had discovered that it was indeed Parker who was ill. Her relief that Booth wasn't in some form of strife, was quickly replaced a fear that she really couldn't describe.

If she did put a finger on it, she thought that it was probably what a parent felt when it was their child in that situation. However scaled down her worry was compared to the biological parents experience, it was still there. It was a gut wrenching feeling.

"They said that he had a inguinal hernia," Booth told her lowly, finishing off the muffin she had supplied, and putting the rubbish in the bin. "Rebecca told me that there was two, but there was only one."

"Where is Rebecca now?" Brennan asked.

"Picking up _Captain Fantastic_ from the airport."

"You're still calling him that?"

"It wasn't that I ever really stopped...she broke up with him though, and for a while she was either with someone else, or on her own. The two sorted it out, and they're back together."

Brennan nodded in understanding. "So he came home when he heard that Parker was in here?"

Booth nodded.

"Does that distress you?"

"Why would it _distress_ me?"

"Because he is like a second father to Parker."

"Don't say that. Do you think Rebecca is intimidated because Parker looks to you like a second mom? No, so don't make assumptions like that."

"He does?" Brennan whispered, touched.

Booth's look of irritation melted away when he heard her soft, awed question. He had just scolded her, yet the only thing she heard was the fact that his son looked to her, like she was another mother to him.

She was touched.

He let it go, and watched his partner gaze at his little boy, as the same overwhelming emotional feeling returned.

"I'm glad you're here, Bones," he said quietly moments later, thumbs playing with the foam cup, and voice thick.

"I know."

"But this doesn't change anything."

She sighed, having only expected just as much. "Make up your mind, Booth," she said tiredly, eying the sleeping boy with caution, in case he woke. "You either want me, or you don't. It's simple."

"No, Bones, it's not simple."

"Yes, it is," she deviated lowly. "We left things on a bad note last time. I understand that. But I also know how abandoned I felt last night, when you never showed up." Motioning to Parker, she softened and amended, "though you had good reason. I grant you that." Stepping closer to him, she held his eyes with such certain intensity, she made it impossible for him to look away. "But let's make things clear; I will _never_ let myself feel that way again. If you want to be with me, it has to be sure. The centre has to hold, because there is only so much fragility I can take." She reached out, and very delicately touched his lips with the cool tips of her fingers.

His hand trailed to the arm that she outstretched, and he felt the soft hairs of her skin prickle upon touch.

She shivered.

"Seeley?" Rebecca called form the door.

The two partners split apart.

"Rebecca," Booth greeted, tone breathless from the past moment.

"Brett is here."

His son's mother stepped inside, and _Captain Fantastic_ followed.

Booth nodded tightly.

"Go home, Seeley," Rebecca urged. "Freshen up. Let us stay with him."

Booth wisped up his jacket, looped it over his arm, and put an hand on her shoulder.

"You'll call me when he wakes up," he made her promise as Brennan collected her things.

"Yes. Go." Rebecca settled down in the armchair by the bed.

Brennan stood awkwardly at the door, unsure of where her place was. Deciding upon leaving before him, she had made it a few metres down the hall before Booth's footsteps followed.

Strangely, they remained silent all the way to the parking lot, where they were to go their separate ways.

"I'll...call you," Booth stumbled, shrugging into his blazer.

"No, you won't," Brennan sighed, eyes down at her bag as she rustled about for her keys. "You'll say that we'll talk, but you'll put it off, and then we'll be silent for another three days." Successfully having found what she sought, her eyes lifted, but it wasn't to him that they rested on. "Don't go making promises you can't keep, Booth. It's not worth your time."

"Bones."

She turned and began to walk to her car.

He caught her arm in an iron grip.

"_Ah!_" she gasped in angry surprise, glaring down at his grasping hand, and then back to his eyes. "Let _go_ of me."

He seemed to comprehend what he was doing, but instead, he said very lowly, "I _will_ call you."

She yanked her arm back and just stared.

Booth held her eyes for a moment longer, before leaving her to stand on the pathway, hand against her throat in slight shock.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you liked it :) Tell me what you think, if you feel up to it x <em>

_I'll update as soon as I can._

_Adios, amigos!_

_Xx G_


	21. A Friend In Need, Is A Friend Indeed

_Hey guys :)_

_Thank you tagging along! To loyal readers, and of course, to my brilliant supporters **(**__**alexindigo, brennanize**(aka forever-a-bonehead)**) **thank you for your ongoing support._

_Enjoy!_

_XxG_

* * *

><p><strong>21. A Friend In Need, Is A Friend Indeed<strong>

Although mass had ended a few hours ago, the church felt full of life. It always did. On the mellow Sunday afternoon it was, sunlight filtered gloriously through the stained-glass windows, and gave the great hall a warm sensation.

Amongst the collective rows of seats, Seeley Booth prayed.

"I'm lost," he murmured tormentedly. "Everything that had once been so in focus...has drifted away into a nonessential corner. I can't help feeling as though I'm walking on a fragile surface...that splits and cracks beneath the weight of every step I take. It feels as though there is this part of me that is so..._desolate_. I know that I have priorities. I know that I need to get them straight. But more than anything, I pray for the good health of my son, and that he heals. I pray that you give him the help he needs.  
>I wanna be a good father to him. I want to be someone that he can be proud of...and at the moment, I understand that you disapprove that notion of me...but I am getting better. Every day I try. I do...but it just feels like constantly losing battle." He lifted his head up, tears of silent agony creating lines as they travelled down the heated flesh of his face.<p>

He prayed that he could regain the old part of him, that he seemed to have forgotten, as time had worn on. He wanted _that man_, back; the man that had sat in this very church three years ago with his partner, and thanked god for not only saving Temperance Brennan and Jack Hodgins...but for saving the whole team. He yearned for the man that had kissed his partner under mistletoe, so she could make Christmas for her family. He prayed for the return of the man who had nearly fathered her child, when she had asked him for one.

The prayer was finished, and he stood, pulled a coin from his pocket, and dropped it into the collection box. Walking outside to the gravel car park, he cast a look to the sky above.

It was clouding with charcoal clouds, puffy and threatening. There would be a storm.

As he opened the door to his SUV, the memory of the last stormy night he had experienced, flashed into view. His pulse combusted into a throbbing fire down his veins, recalling every desire that had or hadn't been explored that fateful evening.

As he drove along the crowded road towards his apartment, a small voice subconsciously wondered whether there was a significance to the storm.

_Would history repeat itself, a month later?_

He shook off the thought, despite the thrill of longing that intoxicated his mind at the notion.

His apartment, upon entry, already begged for an open window or two - which he did straight away, before heading to his bedroom, stripping to his boxers, and searching for his box of cigars. After locating them, he sought out his favourite whiskey, poured a glass, and went to run a bath.

Settling into the heated sensation minutes later, he allowed the watery mass to perform its magic on the knots of his muscles, and willed the alcohol to calm his agitation. Between nips of whiskey, and a puff of his cigar, eventually the relaxation process proved worthwhile, and he felt himself settle.

A loud rap on the door interrupted his serene moments though, and he unwillingly hauled himself out of the deep tub. Wrapping a towel around himself, Booth made his way to the doorway and opened it a crack.

"Agent Booth..." Lance Sweets greeted jovially at first, but upon scrutinizing his friend's appearance, did a bit of a double take. "I'm sorry, is now not a good time?"

Booth smirked. "Give me five. Wait here." He closed the door and ducked to his room, trading the single towel for fresh clothing. Returning a few moments later in jeans and a tee-shirt, he reopened the door and let his friend in, delivering him a good-hearted slap on the back as he passed.

"I heard about Parker," Sweets said quietly, when they reached the kitchen.

Booth stopped abruptly in his tracks. "Did Bones tell you?"

"No, Booth," Sweets defended their friend loyally. "Dr Brennan didn't tell me. Angela was at her apartment when she returned from the hospital. It was Angela who texted me."

"So you only came over here, because Angela suggested you did?" It felt to Booth as though the whole relaxation process had been worthless.

"I came over here of my own accord. I wanted to see how you were holding up; we haven't spoken in ages."

Booth softened. "Oh. Look, I'm sorry for snapping. I really am." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me. It's seems to be all I'm doing these days; snapping at people."

Sweets sighed. "Would you like to go out for a drink?"

Booth grinned. "What, no shrinky advice or anti-depressants?"

"I never said I wouldn't be serving you some," the younger male said, turning on his heel, and heading back towards the entrance. "But you look like you need a drink, and a DNM."

"A DM..._what_?"

"_Deep and Meaningful_. I trust you to know these things. Am I talking too young for you?"

Booth sauntered over and socked him one playfully in the arm. "Wait here, tiger. I'll get my shoes and jacket."

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

"Are we really still going to do this?" Brennan asked with a hint of a moan.

"Yes." Angela tossed a pillow at her. "We are. You need this, Sweetie, and until he calls, I need to preoccupy you. Sit." The title page rolled onto the screen, which she pressed play on, and they both settled into the couch.

"I'm surprised that you didn't leave after I did," Brennan countered as the movie drifted into its opening.

"I had an inkling that you might have needed my support afterwards. I can read you like a book, Bren, and I know that I wasn't wrong." Angela outstretched a leg from her end of the couch, and nudged Brennan with her foot. "Now _shush_. It's starting."

A rower flittered onto the screen, and the piano score supported in a lethargic pace with each gliding stroke.

"He's just paddling," Brennan hissed after a short moment of silence. "It isn't very invigorating."

"Shush!" Angela threatened with another cushion.

After the final interruption from Brennan, they two finally piped down. The sky outdoors, though, dropped down a bucket-load of stormy mass, and didn't settle for a long while.

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

"It's too bad about the storm," Sweets commented as the bartender handed them another beer. His friend's mind, however, was far from the forecast outside.

Booth took a swig from his bottle.

"Do you want to talk about it?" the phycologist offered, watching his drinking partner speculatively.

"I'm not...thinking about that. Nothing. Zilch."

"Your eyes are doing something."

"Okay, so I'm thinking."

"About Dr Brennan."

Booth sat down his drink, and stood.

"No," Sweets chided, "you're going to sit, and you're going to hear this."

Booth slumped back into his chair, his shoulders rounded in silent defeat. For once, he felt like the kid being lectured; he didn't like it, but he knew that he needed to hear the guy out.

"Whether you like to admit it or not, you're a _mucho_ man."

"I'm a _what_?" Booth regarded him as if he were crazy.

"A 'mucho' kinda guy. You value you manliness. You talk a big game, and swagger your jock status." Despite Booth's glare, Sweets continued, "deep down though, you have your real values."

"Where are you going with this, Sweets?" Booth asked stiffly, glancing around himself guardedly.

"You didn't want Dr Brennan to know that you were hurting. You still stung from her rejection, which made it easier for you to utterly lose yourself in someone else – someone you didn't have to really care about. Or, someone you could _make_ yourself care about, so you didn't have to feel otherwise for your partner." Sweets put his hand up for another drink, heaved a deep breath, and then met Booth's eyes again. "If you had asked me to evaluate your relationship with Hannah, I would contrive that you were more in love with the _idea _of her, as oppose to really loving her person. You can object, but that is just my professional opinion."

"Professional, or _personal_?"

"Honestly?"

Booth nodded, jaw taut.

"That is my educated observation. I have hardly touched base on the personal."

"Here we go," Booth muttered expectantly.

Sweet cast him a stern expression.

Booth put his hands up in a defensive posture. "Okay. Sorry."

"Personally, I think that part of you went with the old _'first catch to sting'."_

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that you dove into a serious relationship with somebody as soon as the opportunity arose, because - whether you like it or not - a small part of you wanted to make her sting. Hurt. By forming another relationship first, the psychological effects on her would have been...Anyway, I think you understand what I mean."

"You think I would try and hurt Bones _on purpose?_"

Sweets stood his ground. "Subconsciously, yes. I think you would. After all, she hurt you first. Psychologically, it is natural for you to seek an even score."

Booth exhaled in a hiss. "So you brought me out here to make me angry, and blame me-"

"I'm not blaming you - that's being a bit melodramatic. I am telling you the blunt truth; I'm not sugar-coating it. You're old enough now to take a full swing. I'd apologise for hurting your feelings-"

"Nah." Booth took a mouthful of his beer. "No apologies. I think you're knocked this one on the head."

"Okay...But what have you got to say?" Sweets pressed, although a little softer in tone.

For a moment, the young man didn't expect a reply.

Then, "I'm just angry. All the time. I am infuriated so _easily_," Booth jeered. "I'm sick of feeling like have no control over my emotions."

Sweets waited patiently for him to continue, and he did.

"I thought that sending off the letter to Hannah would seal of the anger. Zap. I'd feel better."

"But..." Sweets prompted gently.

"But the anger resurfaced when my night went pear-shaped. I can't help but think that fate is stepping in the way of things that I really want, and it never tips my way in favour."

"Well, it's perfectly comprehendible for you to-"

"Look, I know you wanna give me advice, and believe me, I _need_ it...but the thing is...I am always one way, or another. One moment, I'll love her, and want to be with her more than anything, but then there are others - like when I saw her today – where I shut her out and snap. I'm so goddamn sick of snapping at her, when I know she doesn't deserve it." Booth gripped his forehead with a free hand. "She's trying, and I can't help feeling like I'm always letting her down."

Sweets eyed him thoughtfully. "You love her." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"You just came out of an adrenaline-induced, highly fiery relationship with someone who isn't rational, lives all in the moment, and, to be quite honest, never regarded your feelings as they should have. You knew her for a day, at most, before you commenced a sexual relationship, yes?"

Booth nodded ruefully.

"So there was no foundation for a deeper connection."

Booth watched him carefully, taking in every aspect of the scenario being put before him.

"You can _let her go," _Sweets said miraculously. "You had something, but its past its expiration date. There was nothing else there, so you have no reason to hold on to her. _You can let her go_."

"Easy there, Sweets. You don't have to spare my feelings, or anything."

"Truth zone, Agent Booth. No sarcasm."

"Right."

"You have known Dr Brennan for a good seven years, yes?"

Again, Booth bobbed his head, although this time it was accompanied by wondrous expression.

"There is a _very_ big foundation there. You have years of a beautiful partnership, built up to this great relationship. If you're not careful, you could lose that. Because of your actions since you left for Afghanistan, you've already threatened that."

"You didn't just say _beautiful_, Sweets..."

"Booth."

"Hmm?"

"I am serious. I have told you before; we both know that Dr Brennan's hyper-rationality is really just a cover for a very vulnerable and sensitive core." He caught Booth's eyes in an inescapable hold. "You have _reached_ those defences, and if you push her anymore than you already have...you could _really lose her._"

Booth remained silent for a long time, but then, very lowly, he murmured, "so what do I do?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Quick Note <strong>_**(Long, actually, sorry):**

_Firstly, generally, I am not a churchy person, but I remembered Booth saying that he attended church every Sunday, and that he has always been one to send a prayer, so I thought I might just slip that scene in here :)  
><em>_Secondly: I know this a lecturing chapter – but it was important that I had Sweets in there, because you all know about the family-ish triangle that these guys (B, B and Sweets) are in.  
><em>_This is better for Booth too, because it knocks it right on the head. - No more stuffing around, Booth. - __I'm sick of the snapping. __Pull your finger out!_

_As always – I love my reviews, if you have time to pop one in. Thank you for all submitted from last chapter :) x_

_Xx G_


	22. A Nod

Hello all!

I'm sorry - I know that it's been a while. Past two weeks I've been trecking along muddy spurs, battling the elements and eating campfire food.

Good guess: I was camping!

Anyway - camping means no computer, so I'm sorry for not warning you before I left. My bad.

*I also realise that I have neglected to write disclaimers, in the midst of editing and uploading new chapters in a haste, so, for that part (just to keep on the safe side) -  
><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong> I don't own Bones, its characters, events etc. They belong to Hart Hanson and co. Story is for entertainment purposes only, and is not to be reproduced anywhere other than this site.*  
><em>( I do however, own my own mind, and the writing that it produces, so don't steal that! tsk tsk!)<em>

Enjoy!

Xx G

* * *

><p><strong>22. A Nod<strong>

"Is she home?" Sweets asked a little breathlessly, as he almost jogged to keep up with Booth's lengthily stride.

"She'll be home," the older man replied shortly.

"Did you call her?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

"I just know."

Although Sweets didn't say anything, Booth could sense his doubt. Before they reached Brennan's door, he whirled around abruptly, causing the younger man to halt.

"Listen, Sweets," he said lowly, "I'm not going to say anything shrinky, and I'll probably want to kick myself for this later...but you're like the little brother. You, me and Bones...we're like a surrogate family. I know that you want this to work out almost as much as Bones and I do ourselves, but there comes a line of definition; I accept your advice, because that's what a strong man does. I good man will listen to someone – and I have. But from now on? I have to do this alone, you understand? I pledge myself to her, no one else gives advice after this moment, and no one else interferes. Am I clear?"

Sweets nodded solemnly, ever loyal.

Booth took the younger man's shoulders, and shook them slightly in a brotherly attitude.

The arrived at Brennan's door, and after rapping loudly a couple of times, the door was opened by a puffy-eyed Angela.

Immediately, Booth's heart leapt fearfully.

"Who is it, Ange?" Came Brennan's thick voice from somewhere behind soft movie credits.

Before Booth could ask Angela what was wrong, Brennan appeared from around the corner, nose running and eyes as wet as her friend's.

"Bones, what happened?" he gasped, worry coating his words and waving over his face.

"Bren here learnt that movies can make you cry." Angela seemed pleased with herself. She turned to Brennan. "Didn't you, Sweetie?"

"It triggered the-"

"Bren. It's okay to say it made you cry."

Brennan flushed in embarrassment, and looked away.

"Come in," Angela invited, stepping aside.

Sweets immediately entered, Booth, however, took a deep breath and caught Angela's a gaze.

She nodded ever so slightly in understanding.

"I want you to come take a walk with me," Booth requested softly to his partner.

"Where?" Brennan asked blankly.

"Outside."

"But it's raining," she stated worriedly, eyes drifting to the water that dribbled down the glass of a window.

"I know, but it'll stop." He beckoned with a small hand gesture. "C'mon."

A smile tugged hopelessly at the corners of her mouth, and behind her, Angela and Sweets exchanged knowing grins of their own.

"I'll go, Sweetie," Angela said softly, tugging Sweets' sleeve. "Besides; Hodgins really wants to see Mr Lance here-" she tugged on the psychologist's ear, "- so it's a win, win."

Sweets couldn't wipe the pleased expression from his face, but as he passed Booth he hit his chest lightly, and muttered under his breath, "remember what I said."

Nodding subtly, Booth waited for the two to exit, kissing Angela on the cheek briefly in farewell as she passed him.

Brennan pulled her coat from the hook, and gave him a shy look.

"Can we talk?" she asked softly when the others were gone.

"We will." He outstretched the door farther.

She smiled diffidently and stepped out, leaving him to lock the door.

The air outdoors was crisp, and damp, but it wasn't overly unpleasant.

"I should really invest in better wet-weather footwear," Brennan mumbled, as the air chilled the bare skin of her feet.

"Why didn't you put on your boots?"

"I honestly couldn't be bothered to go all the way to my room, and all the way back. Not when I had guests."

"Oh, you poor thing," Booth chuckled, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "The horror of having to walk all the way to your bedroom.

They had walked but twenty metres down the block, and already Brennan's mind was working on over-drive. She extended an arm, and yanked Booth to a stop.

"You said that we would talk. Not just small talk, but, I understand that, when we define _talk_, it extends to a very serious conversation." She took a step closer to him, the heat particles of her breath clouding as she respired heavily. "A conversation...that _will __not __be __avoided_."

"I know," Booth replied in the most nonchalant tone, that Brennan almost scoffed in surprise.

When he saw her incredulous expression, he softened desirably, and took the hand that she had gripped to his arm.

"We will talk, Bones. But there is a small park not far away from here, and I thought that it would be a nicer place to have a chat." His fingers slipped from hers, and he motioned for them to continue walking.

They did. In silence too, for a split second.

"What are we supposed to do, then?" Brennan demanded, passion heating up both her body language and vocal tone. "Do we walk another hundred metres...and pretend to be friends? Do we talk about things that don't really matter...like they do matter, and then abolish them the moment we step foot inside that park?" She bit her lip roughly, met his eyes with fiery intensity, and they both came to a halt. "Is it really that easy for you," she continued coldly, anger making her words tremble, "to _switch_ everything off one moment and pretend like it's all okay...and then suddenly bring it back? Is that what this is to you? A game of pretence?"

"None of this is easy!" Booth fired in reply, eyes ablaze. "_None_ of it. Not. One. Single. Bit. Do you hear me?"

"Of course I hear you! You are very loud! You're shouting."

"So are you!"

They glared at each other a moment longer, before Booth spluttered into smirks at the situation. Brennan did too.

"No," she later defied, regaining composure. "You can't do that; you can't laugh and make me laugh, and then make everything better again. Something like this doesn't just get _fixed_."

"And I know that Bones," he answered, all in perfect seriousness. "I know."

"No more pretending," she sighed after a long moment, defeated. "This snappiness and anger...I thought that we had gotten past it. I really thought that we had."

"We did."

"We did? Then what is this? Please, be so kind as to enlighten me what _this_-" she motioned swiftly to their persons, "_is_."

"This...is a mess. Granted. It's a complete, and utter...horrible, massive mess."

She smiled in weak frustration at the absurdity of his words, and looked away. "There was no educated sense in that at all."

"_So_ _what_? It doesn't _have_ to make sense. _We_ don't make sense. Not at all."

"So you're saying that we have nothing in common?"

"_No_. We have _us_ in common."

Brennan stared at him cluelessly. "You are making no comprehensible sense at all.

"I'm sorry-"

"You can't just cement everything up with an apology, Booth," she interrupted him quietly.

"That was me apologising for not making any sense."

"Still. You seem to be a firm believer in the notion that an apology can make everything alright."

"I'm not trying to seal everything over with a complete grovel, Bones," he argued in torment. "I just want you to hear me out. That's all I'm asking."

She sighed, and the height of her shoulders lessened in defeat.

Booth knew that he had her. He set off at a steady walk, and thankfully, Brennan followed.

"I wrote a letter two nights ago," he began, burying his hands in his pockets. "It was to Hannah." He paused, waiting for her to tell him off again.

The dismissal didn't come. Booth continued, "in the letter, I explained a few things. I explained how I loved her, but I was never really _in love_ with her. I told her that my heart was reserved for someone else." He ran a hand through his damp hair. "I also told her that I was angry at her, and blamed her for our break up; originally, I blamed her dishonesty for the reason we split. That wasn't all the case though. Ever since the night you revealed your feelings to me, my own had resurfaced, and as every day went by, I found myself wanting to be with you more than I ever had before."

Brennan's cheeks tightened, and he knew that she was biting them to conceal some form of response.

"I finished the letter. I explained perhaps a few more things that I don't need to elaborate, but when I sealed that it...I was done with her. Finished. It was like I was locking away a part my life that never had to be touched again." Booth halted, and stepped closer to her, palms outstretched, as if he were walking up to a frightened horse that would gallop away at a start. He stopped just centimetres away from touching her. "...And do you know the first thing I felt? The first thing that crossed my mind, the moment I finally removed Hannah from my life?" He outstretched a hand, and feathered his fingers along the side of her face. "You," he whispered, breath tickling her skin. "All I could think about, was how much I wanted to be with _you_." He stretched out his other hand, and brushed it against her opposite cheek. She closed her eyes, and the small moisture collected there, dripped and met his warm hands.

"No," she mumbled hoarsely, taking yet another step away from him, losing his touch. "This isn't where we make romantic speeches-"

"Listen to me," he interrupted sharply, wide with earnest.

"What more is there to say?" she argued sharply before he could continue. "Every time we're like 'this', all I hear is how much you want to be with me. How you love me. Then, when it comes down to it, you throw mud in my face, and turn me away. Make up your mind." She stormed off again.

"I want you."

Brennan still didn't halt. "Start acting like it, and I will believe you," she said swiftly over her shoulder.

Booth's eyes flashed, and he hardly had time to open his mouth before she whirled around, and began talking again.

"We're always falling back to the same place. It's like I am at your disposal; you choose when you want me, and then discard me when you don't. I feel like I am nothing more than an indifference to you."

"How can you say that?" Booth asked disbelievingly, aching at the thought of the notion.

"Because it is all I am left with, Booth!" Brennan yelled at last, unable to contain her emotional turmoil. "I will believe that you love me, the day that you prove it to me."

"You think that I haven't shown you just how much, ever goddamn day? Any time I stand up for you? I offer you a hand? I take you out for meals and drinks. I drop you hints about the one person you're supposed to be with forever? What about all of the conversations with you about how two people make love, and they fit together? About all of it! Every single day we work together, I show you just how much I love you, but you're just too blind to see it."

"So it's my fault," she murmured in distraught, the waterworks in her eyes overflowing.

"No," he moaned, throwing his head back. "You're not getting me. It's _both_ of us. Logically, you say we're not supposed to work. Sometimes, I don't understand it either. We're opposites in so many ways, but we complement each other. You just have to trust me on this one." After a long pause, her took the dangerous step towards her. "Please," he breathed, "understand that I'm sorry. For all the pain. For being so rotten to you today, because my life had plummeted down in one split moment, and I was too stupid to realise I was dragging you down with me."

Brennan lifted her chin ever so slightly, fighting her repelling side that was aching to build up the bricks and shut him out. The wall that protected her from _feeling_.

"These past two years," he continued, quietly still, "...I forgot the most important thing. Ever since I woke up from my surgery, it was almost as if they left me without a brain – at least the part of it that I needed. I didn't need to remember my garish socks, or gaudy tie."

Brennan regarded him hesitantly, unsure where he was heading.

He smiled ever so slightly. "I needed to remember you. Not the 'you' from the dream. I needed to remember _you_. What is unique about you. What flaws you. I needed to remember that I understood you better than anyone else." Again, he took her face in his hands. "I promise you...that - should it be an eternity, than let it be – I will...every single day, never lose sight of that again."

She watched him with an unfathomable expression.

"Please say something," he whispered desperately, after a very long silence.

"I...I don't know what to say," she said weakly, vocal tones heightening as the tears threatened her voice. "I c-can't rationalise-"

"Don't rationalise, Bones. Go with your heart."

She stared at him for a long time.

"It hurts," she confessed finally, in the same broken tone. "I feel _everything_. I let myself feel. When you didn't talk to me for days again...and we ended on fighting terms, I just...I just thought that you would show up, and it would be okay, because you never break your promises. I know you don't. Never to me. You n-never break your promises to me." She broke into tears. "B-but you didn't come last night...and I...I thought you didn't _want_ me again..."

"No," he argued thickly. "Never have I not wanted you."

"If you've always wanted me, t-then why didn't you come?"

"When?" He knew that she wasn't referring to any recent evening. He already had a pretty good idea which one it was.

"The night I turned you down. I made a mistake. That was when you were supposed to tell me that I didn't have to change for you. You were supposed to give me time." The same smile returned, although it wasn't the good sort; it was her 'ridiculous notion' sort. "You were supposed to k-kiss me again, and tell me that we would work it out. Tell me that I didn't have to change." As quickly as the smile came, it disappeared in that instant after the sentence was spoken. "You, best of anybody, always said that you can't push me. You are the one who is supposed to be gentle, and know what to do. You know me better than anybody else." The tears slipped from her eyes again. "Why couldn't you just wait for me? Y-you didn't want me. No body does. Everyone _leaves_ in the end. When you didn't c-come last night...I thought you were going to...too."

He didn't care how much she would squirm and protest.

He closed the distance between them, and crushed her against his chest so tightly, he probably almost suffocated her.

Much to his relief, she grasped him in return with the same strength.

"Not one day has gone by, that I haven't wanted you in my life, Temperance Brennan," he whispered passionately in her ear, and then, in more of a protective hiss, he added, "I will _never_ leave you. _Ever_."

He felt her laugh once against him. It was almost a _huff_. She pressed her lips against his neck gently, eyelashes butterfly-kissing against his warmth.

"You wanna know something else?" he murmured against her hair.

She nodded in reply against his chest.

"I do love you. More than I believed I was capable of doing. I don't care if you can't say it back, or I can't put a ring on your finger to bind us together in ceremony. I fell in love with you for the person that you are. I don't ever want you to change."

She pulled back so she could meet his eyes evenly. Her throat ached tightly, and she felt the words come out. Just as they should. It felt right.

"I love you," she whispered. "I _really_ do."

He stared at her in stunned silence.

"I m-mean, just because I said it any other time...I mean, I just...it wasn't really _it_...but I truly _mean __it _this time-" Brennan didn't know what to say. He wasn't speaking, and she was worried.

Booth interrupted her wordy struggles with a deep kiss. She smiled into the mould of his lips, and after a few minutes of the heated embrace, they broke apart breathlessly.

"So where does this leave us?" Brennan asked in a sigh, throwing her hands up and dropping them in a hopeless gesture.

"What do you mean?" Booth's heart fell a little at her question.

"You and I...? We may have settled things for now, but later...we'll argue again, and I don't think you realise the danger of the posibilty."

Booth could have hit something in frustration, but he reminded himself about her logic, and instead, took a deep breath of his own, and relaxed.

"So what if we fight - of course we will. You and me, Bones? We're both strong personalities, and we'll both want to be in charge. We will argue. There will be tears. But Bones...there always _has_ been."

At that moment, she looked away, biting her lip again, and he knew that she was trying to hide an influx of tears.

"Hey," he whispered comfortingly, outstretching a hand to rest on her cheek.

She leant into it.

"Baby," Booth crooned in the same feather-light whisper, "I'm not saying that it's going to be easy. But the way I see it, is that you can stand here now, look me honestly in the eye, and tell me that won't do it. I'll have to accept that. Or..." he placed his other hand on the side of her face, "you can go with your heart. Make the decision that could turn out to be the best of your life. It will be hard, but we'll keep on fighting. You've just gotta hold on to what matters, Bones."

"Okay," she whispered. "Yes. But be patient; I'm not good at this."

"I doesn't matter if you're good at this or not. We'll work at it together, okay?"

Brennan nodded.

He nodded with her, and broke into the most beautiful smile.

* * *

><p><em>There you go - I hope you enjoyed it :) Again, sorry about the huge gap.<em>

_I just want to warn you guys though, that I had originally hoped for this story to be finished by the time of the American prem. of season seven arrived - saying that, I think you all sort of got that this story would be drawing to a close soon._

_Agree? Disagree? Let me know - x_

_As always, your feedback has been brilliant, and I thank you so much for that. It is really encouraging :) x_

_Until next time -  
>Xx G<em>


	23. Working Together

_Hello my readers!_

_I'm really sorry for the huge break – I've got exams, and I'm crazy revising, so there's not much time to write._

_Thank you to those who did pop in a review – weeks ago, now, I'm sorry I had you waiting so long - Your support (**alexindigo**, and **brennanize**!) is so wonderful,_

_Now, this chapter is a little jump forward from the last – you'll pick it up though. X_

_I'm not sure whether you're still out there and reading this, so please let me know – pop in a note or a word! If you think I should end it at Chap. 22, then so be it. If not, I'm happy to continue, but I warn you that updates may have a bit of a gap between them until summer holidays, when I am yours for 8 weeks :)_

_Regardless, as always,_

_Enjoy! Xx G_

* * *

><p><strong>23. Working Together<strong>

"No way."

Booth laughed. Parker giggled.

"I am amazing at this," Brennan said defiantly, placing her hands on her hips. "Your lack of confidence in me is a little insulting."

"Ten attempts, and you wonder why we're losing confidence," Booth snickered, ruffling his son's hair. "Babe...it's okay to say you can't do it."

His partner pouted and turned her focus back to the screen.

"I'll do it," she promised determinedly. "You just watch."

The two male companions bit their cheeks to conceal any spluttering laughs, or cheeky grins.

Eyes fixed intently on the virtual tightrope on the screen, Brennan gingerly lifted a foot on the platform, and began her journey across it...yet again.

"I have perfect balance," she muttered as her _Mii_ wobbled along the line. "Why can't I do this?"

"That's because it takes skill," Booth piped.

"You're leaning to one side too much," Parker supported. "You gotta-"

Suddenly 'Bones' the_Mii_ wobbled and fell out of screen view.

Brennan leapt off the _Wii__Fit_ block with a huff.

"I'm changing games. This is ridiculous," she said, grabbing the case from the coffee table. "Worst investment I ever made."

Booth and Parker laughed.

"Ha. You might be laughing now, you two, but you won't be when I beat you in tennis." Brennan narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Nuh-uh," Parker disagreed. "Not tennis. _Mario__Kart_. There's no way you can beat us with Princess Peach."

"I don't know whether that's a good idea, Parks," Booth told his son with a lilt of laughter.

"Why?"

"Because there is no way the Mario and Peach are gonna beat Yoshi."

"You are so on," Parker challenged, meeting his father's eyes with a very testing look.

Brennan smiled and scrambled for _Mario__Kart_ and the three wheels. Just as she had disconnected the other game, and was about to insert the disc for their chosen competition, Booth's phone buzzed.

He moved to get it, but she gave him a differing look.

"Can't you just leave it?" she requested, the little hope evident in her tone.

"I could, but it's my paging ring tone," Booth replied ruefully, whipping the phone up to his ear and motioning with a finger for silence. "Hacker," he answered into the phone. "How's it going?"

After a few _mmm__'__s_ and _humph__'__s_, he left the room swiftly.

Brennan couldn't help but feel a little twinge at the strange sensation she felt when her boyfriend spoke to her 'ex' so nonchalantly. She knew that if the situation was reversed, should the unwelcome Hannah ever show her face again, she would run at her with a sharpened machete.

Cheery thought.

Brennan smirked to herself.

"What's funny?" Parker asked innocently, eyes wide.

She was shaken from her travelling thoughts by his question, as Booth re-entered the room.

"Got a case," he said openly, although Brennan knew it was only for her. "Sorry little man," he apologised to his son, tousling the curls of his hair again.

"Do I have to go back to Mom's?" Parker didn't seem thrilled.

"You remember our friend Angela, don't you?" Brennan put in suddenly, knowing of the child's mother's whereabouts that particular weekend. And her...activities.

Parker nodded. "Of course."

"Would it be okay if we dropped you at the lab for a little while, under her surveillance?"

"It'd be great. I don't mind."

"Perfect." Brennan was so relieved that the boy had an easy nature like his father; not a stubborn, closed-minded perception like the mother.

Booth mouthed a thank you to Brennan, who smiled shortly and switched off the television and _Wii_ console.

"Whereabouts is it?" Brennan asked she and Booth put on their coats, and waited for Parker to use the bathroom.

"Washington DC Racecourse. Decomposed body found in a manure pile or something."

"What is with all of our cases including horses?" Brennan asked an exasperated wave.

"It's only two that we've had in the past three months, Bones," Booth contradicted, although intrigued by her comment. His Bones never over-exaggerated – she never made remarks like that full stop. It was good, though.

"I know. I'm just trying it out."

"Trying out what?"

"Making instantaneous comments. It's actually quite stimulating; not always saying everything as it is."

"That's my girl," Booth hummed, kissing her on the cheek. "Always experimenting."

"I remember the last case as if it were yesterday," Brennan said easily after a moment. "Only the good bits, though," she added almost in a whisper, smiling coyly at him.

Naturally, swiftly, Booth planted a sweet kiss on her lips, just as the bathroom door closed down the hall.

"Let's go and catch a murderer," he murmured quickly in her ear. "I love the celebratory drinks afterwards."

Brennan smirked and held the door open. "What if I don't want to have drinks with you?"

Booth nipped her ear. "Then I'm sure we'll find something else to do."

"What if I don't want to do anything with you?" she asked playfully, giving him a little push.

"Keep up that attitude, and I won't invite you back in."

"This is my apartment."

Parker arrived behind Booth and tugged on his sleeve. "Daddy? Are we going?"

Brennan gave Booth another push.

"Yeah, little man. We're going," Booth replied, giving his partner a good-natured narrow of the eyes.

.

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

"Careful, Bones," Booth warned, watching his partner with worry. "It's slippery."

Brennan looked up and gave him a crooked smile. "I know." She began padding down, when suddenly her boot slipped forward, and her balance rocked, resulting to her arms flailing for stability.

"Bones!"

The anthropologist steadied herself, and looked up, eyes mischievous.

Booth frowned. "You played that."

"Did I?" she gainsaid, lopsided smile returning.

"Not funny."

"It was very funny," she argued lightly, "and you know it."

Booth surrendered and waited until she reached the bottom, before saying anything else, and distracting her focus as she trooped along the muddy side.

"Oh." Brennan's voice etched surprise when she finally reached the body.

"Oh...what?" Booth asked reluctantly, unsure whether he liked the tone of her voice or not.

"It's not something I could explain to you without causing you confusion," she replied, the concentrated frown she wore spreading into her vocal tone.

"We have a spare suit, Agent Booth," one of the assistant techs from the Jeffersonian vouched. "Only if you want to."

Booth took a cagey step back. "Oh no, no." He put his hands up in a defensive posture. "Six years I have avoided that monkey suit. No way."

"Please, Booth?" She hit the right spot. Her voice. Her request.

Moaning on the inside, the agent accepted the offer, and a few minutes later, he trudged out of the van in the field suit and boots. Rolling his shoulders and stretching the outfit as much as he could, Booth came to a halt at the top of the slope.

"So now I just...," he stalled.

Brennan looked up, and while she managed to stifle a laugh, she couldn't conceal her broadened smile. "Join me," she said simply. "Just make your way _slowl_y down...," She trailed off when her partner already began a very swift decent.

"Look at this," Booth said excitedly as he arrived by her kneeling form. "Us working together."

"We always work together," Brennan replied, the same old blank misunderstanding evident across her face and intertwined in her tone. "I don't see why this is such a different situation."

"This is our first case since...y'know..."

"We began seeing each other," she finished for him. "Yes, I know."

"And I'm in-" he tugged on the navy of his jumpsuit, "-this."

"You are." She turned her attention back to the victim, eyes scanning of the remains for visible indicators.

They were silent for a few moments as Brennan examined the remains.

"What did you need me down here for?" Booth asked a little impatiently, always unnerved by the sight of bodies. "Bones?" he persisted after receiving no answer.

She almost looked embarrassed. "I wanted you to come down...so I could..." she admitted sheepishly. "Maybe I could teach you something?"

"Look, Bones, that's sweet and all but-" He broke off as he watched her face fall. "This isn't the best place for us to be playing and testing new territory," he finished gently.

Brennan nodded in understanding, but she had been taken down a peg, and as quickly as the flash of vulnerability came, her expression became guarded, and the situation was immediately professional again.

"Victim is female, pelvic diameter indicates female...who has given birth. Small stature suggests younger age, but the matured growth of her bones and the completion of her third molars tells us that she is older than twenty-one."

Booth listened to Brennan's observations – at first, believing that she was talking to him, but when she didn't make eye-contact again, and he spied the recorder she possessed, he gave her space.

She was in work mode now; there was no point disrupting her, because he would be answered either with annoyance, or ignored all together.

.

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

"Is that everything?" Cam asked as the last bone was placed out.

"Yes," Brennan called from her position at the platform's table. "Hodgins has everything else. Everything we need is here."

Wendell eyed the victim skeptically. "And she's older than twenty-one?"

Brennan nodded.

Their boss swiped her access card and joined them. "She's small for an adult," Cam observed, placing her hands on her hips.

"We've established that," Brennan supplied.

"Oh," Wendell started suddenly.

Brennan lifted her eyes from the notes she was scribbling, and fixated them on her assistant. "What's the matter?"

"N-nothing's the _matter_ really, Dr B, I just..."

"The tone you used indicated your surprise, I just assumed-"

"Could you please come and look at this?"

Brennan rose her eyebrows in slight surprise at the request, but retrieved a pair of latex gloves from the table.

"What appears to be the abnormality?" She came to his side.

"What's with this?" her student asked very suddenly, motioning with his hand to something additional on the steel gurney.

"Oh." The anthropologist lifted the tibia.

"This bone doesn't belong to our victim-"

"No," Brennan confirmed, frowning down at the lost soul before her. "No, it doesn't."

"What's wrong?" Wendell asked, as his mentor's eyes darkened.

Brennan's eyes narrowed, and her finger traced the gaping slice.

"There's more than one victim."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Are you still out there, readers? If so, please let me know! I know that it has been a while, and for that I am really sorry. (Also, I'm aware that this chapter is shorter, but it just depends on whether you want me to keep going...:S )<em>**

**_Just a 'Yes!' will do :)_**

**_Do you want The Matter to the Bones to end at Chapter 22, and then let there be a sequel, or would you like me to keep on going...or stop...? Not sure what to do, and I am up to my neck in exams now, but I'll try. Please, let me know –_**

**_Xx G_**


	24. Part II: Take Your Lattes With Sugar

HEY THERE!

Okay, don't shoot me. I'm unarmed!

-I know it's been, like, a millennium since I have updated, but after my computer crashed, I was sitting around waiting for my birthday to come hopping along - and it wasn't like I was going to use the FAMILY computer...jeez...they'd think I was entering phase II of the Bones obsession...what if they found my chapters? I have avenging siblings that would delete this masterpiece out of spite... - joking; they're not that bad...

Anyways, I started this a long while ago, and I discovered it on a memory stick when I was transferring stuff to my new Mac, so long story short - I have really missed writing, I missed the readers, and I missed always being kept on my toes to process another chapter.

After much debate, I decided it was easier to put the rest of the story on here, rather than create a whole new story. (Like, those old-fashioned novels where they have 'volume I' 'volume II' etc - well, that's what this is, except we'll just be a little bit more modern, and name it **PART II.**

Anyway, without further adieu,

Enjoy guys!

Xx G

(NB: Story continues nearly a month after the ending of **P****art I**)

(PS: Think _'Punching In A Dream'_ by _The Naked and Famous_ as the soundtrack for this chapter ;) - )

* * *

><p><strong>PART II<strong>

**The Matter to the Bones**

_**"Every mountain is unclimbable until someone climbs it."**_

_(Lord Grantham, Downton Abbey, Season 1 - Julian Fellows)_

* * *

><p><strong>24. Take Your Lattes With Sugar<strong>

* * *

><p>"Look, Dad, I'm up to my neck right now in a case-" Brennan smiled up at the barista and accepted the coffee carrier. "Thanks," she whispered to the woman, and passed over the correct money. Taking the phone from its squashed position between her ear and shoulder with a freed hand, she commenced her conversation. "Can we reschedule?"<p>

Max huffed on the other end of the line. "You're putting your case over your brother?"

"Dad," Brennan replied exasperatedly. "That's not fair; you know I have to. I'm dealing with a double murder here, not an overdue assignment that I could charm my way out of."

"Double murder?"

As Brennan strode along the sidewalk, she filled her father in with what little she could.

"Any more juicies?" her father probed.

"No, Dad. You're a criminal, and you're lucky I'm sharing anything with you. I could get in trouble."

"C'mon honey, you're only telling the stuff you hear on the news, or read in the papers."

Brennan was silent.

"Hmm?" Again, with the probing.

"You never read the papers anyway," Brennan pointed out.

"Fine. But what about your brother?"

Brennan arrived at the entrance doors of the Hoover.

"Look...I just really think we should work this out later. Please, Dad?" she said entreated.

"But, honey-"

She interrupted his protest. "I don't want you mistaken my putting this off as a reason not to see Russ; I really do miss him, and I can't wait to see him, but there's just so much going on at the moment. I would honestly rather figure this all out at another time, when my plate isn't so full, okay?"

"I suppose you're right-"

"Hold on a sec, Dad." Brennan pressed the phone against her chest and presented herself at the front desk.

It was the same lady, Samantha. Sam. _Sweet_ Sam.

Sam had always disliked her, and Brennan only understood now, that it was because Booth's attention was all and only for her - the beautiful, educated anthropologist.

And not the tacky blonde from Skid Row.

"Visiting Seeley?" Sam purred, cat-like eyes piercing holes wherever they rested.

"Not visiting, Sam," Brennan corrected her tiredly. "I've got _work_ to do. We're in the middle of a case."

If it were possible, the hazel eyes became even more narrow. "It's Samantha, for you. Sam, for everyone else." She fumbled about with something behind the barriers of the desk. "Now, you would be visiting Seeley?"

Brennan didn't let the pettiness touch her - too much. "Work," she repeated. She was in a fantastic mood, granted, but her fuse was too short for simple-minded idiots like the receptionist.

The blond antagonist was taking an unnecessary amount of time to perform the simple task at hand, and thus Brennan could restrain herself no longer. "What, are we five-year-olds?" she demanded exasperatedly. "I've been here thousands of times. Booth has been my partner for almost seven years, and you have been a receptionist here for four; show me the courtesy I deserve by not making your jealously so damn obvious every time I step a foot through that front door! "

Sam stared at her coolly, and passed over a tag. "Maybe it is a game of mine," she answered bitterly. "But your the one who plays along."

"And maybe I do answer back to you, even when I shouldn't, because I should be above that, but nothing changes the fact that Seeley shares my bed, and he will never share yours. So _leave me alone_." Brennan clipped the tag on. "Do us all a favour and build yourself a bridge."

Satisfied with her swift finish, and more than eager to disappear from Samantha's presence, she made for the elevator. Once inside, she brought her phone back up to her ear. "Hi Dad, I'm back - sorry about that. The receptionist was being a tart."

"Yeah, I heard. Nice one, honey."

Brennan frowned. "What...how did you-"

"I heard the conversation," Max chuckled.

"But I had my phone against-"

"I think you must have not had it muffled properly, because I heard it."

"Oh."

"Don't be down about it; you did good, honey. I'm proud of you." He paused. "Something you said though, caught my attention, though.

On the other end of the line, his daughter rose her eyebrows. "And what was that exactly?"

"Something about you and Booth sharing a bed-"

"Oh, that's nothing," she lied. "I just said it to get her off my back."

"You're a horrible liar."

"Am not."

"See, you're lying right now!"

Brennan laughed. The lift arrived at Booth's _Homicidal Units_ floor. Exiting the lift, she passed through the sea of desks.

"Okay...I've got to go Dad."

"But we haven't finished talking about-"

"I'm so, so busy, Dad," Brennan fibbed again as she entered Booth's office. "I really have to go."

The man himself looked up from his papers and grinned broadly.

"Tempe, honey-" her father began to protest.

"Uh-oh! Assistant about to come and hail me down!" she said quickly in the phone, while Max continued to try cutting in. "Love you!" She hung up.

Booth laughed. "Is that how we dismiss callers now?"

Brennan shrugged and an joined his laughter. "He'll be okay."

Her partner stood and met her.

"I come bearing gifts," she said with a smile, presenting the two coffees, and a coffee-kart pie.

"Mmm," Booth replied approvingly, leaning over and kissing her chastely on the lips. "So how's your day been, beautiful?"

"The usual," said Brennan nonchalantly, handing him a coffee and his paper bag of pie. "Elbows deep in remains. Inspecting and re-inspecting. No breakfast."

Booth shook his head in disapproval. "I don't like you skipping breakfast."

"Well, I worked through last night, and by this morning I just didn't feel like eating."

"That's no excuse," he chided. "The one night you don't spend with me, and already you're breaking habits. _Tsk, tsk_."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'm a villain to my stomach. Now, how has _your_ day been?"

"What...no 'beautiful' for me?" Booth pouted.

Brennan thrust her tongue out. "How was your day _beautiful_?"

"Oh, you know, the usual."

"Paper work. Loose ends that don't tie up. Suspects that drive you up the wall?"

"Bang. Hit that one right on the head."

Brennan broke into a smile again.

Booth studied her a moment. "Why do you look like that cat that ate the canary?"

She frowned. "I don't know what that means..."

He laughed and kissed her forehead. "It means that you look very self-satisfied or smug, baby. What did you accomplish?"

Brennan had to think for a moment. "Oh!" she gasped suddenly. "I put that bitter receptionist in her place."

Booth was sceptical. "Sam?"

Brennan nodded.

"Bones, she's harmless..."

"Booth, you weren't there! Anyway, so I called her Sam, just like everyone else does, and then she was like '_it's Samantha for you, Sam for everyone else'_"- Brennan made a face as she quoted the blonde- "and do you know what I told her in reply?" she continued, eyes fiery. "She was being nasty to me the whole time, and she kept on calling you S_eeley_, like she was some sexy seductress that had stolen your virtue-"

Booth laughed. "And what did you say?"

Despite his laughter, though, she competitively concluded, "like the responsible adult I am, I told her that you shared my bed, and that you would never share hers, and I said that she was to treat me more courteously in the future - considering the fact that had been working with the bureau longer than she had been an employee there - and then I told her to build a bridge."

"And do you think it will work?"

"Probably not." Brennan pressed her lips to the cup. "But regardless, it was worth it; just to see that look on her face when I threw it straight back at her."

Her partner eyed her thoughtfully: his laughter had subsided.

"Were you jealous?" he eventually asked, curious."...Jealous of Sam showing an interest in me?"

Brennan shifted on her feet, and cast her eyes downwards.

Booth's hearty chuckle made her lift them.

"Are you laughing at me?" she depicted, expression wary.

"No," he assured her, shaking his head. "I actually feel...flattered."

"Flattered. Good on you." Brennan nodded grimly.

Booth took her chin between his thumb and index finger, eyes serious and compelling against the stubborn set of her jaw.

"Don't get so stirred up, baby. I'm flattered that you would get defensive on someone over me, even though you know I'm already _yours_. I'm proud of you; you just told off the bitchiest girl in school, and you won. Kudos."

"I don't know what that means..."

"Praise of the highest order, my stubborn little beauty."

Brennan scrunched her nose. "Little?"

"Call it metaphoric; you're budding in the ways of the big, wide, urban world."

She gave into a smile.

Booth's computer made a strange sound. Both heads turned towards it, and its owner moved around to observe the screen. "Hey - I got something back on the victim."

Brennan motioned with her hand. "Do tell."

"Phoebe Caultts. No official record, no criminal record. Just an address, and a profile from a linked website." He glanced at Brennan momentarily, before popping the lid off of a biro and scribbling down the address into his notebook. "You're going to like this one; nice and easy." He went to pass the book to her, bust she joined him instead.

"She lived right near the racecourse where we discovered the remains," she observed thoughtfully.

Booth nodded. "And that's not all."

Brennan leaned closer. "She was a jockey?"

"Read on," her partner encouraged.

Her eyes scanned the screen. "She worked for _Gates' Breeding Stables_. Gates...why does that sound familiar?"

"Mary Rushmore."

"What about her?"

"What were the names of her three husbands?"

Brennan frowned, and counted out on three fingers. "Well there was Evan Rushmore, the victim, of course...and then there was Kevin...Kevin Giles. The millionaire. And then the last one was...Nicholas...Gates, wasn't it?"

Booth nodded.

_How were they connected?_ Brennan drifted into deep meditation.

"Nicholas and his wife Margaret built up their small fortune from breeding racehorses!" she exclaimed suddenly, linking the story. "Wait...wait. You don't think that Joshua Blake committed these murders too, do you?"

Booth shook his head. "No. I think that the fact that these to cases are related, just happens to be a coincidence - but an interesting one at that."

"There are no coincidences in a crime."

"Sometimes."

"Barely."

They were both silent for a moment.

Brennan broke the ice. "So what do you want to do?"

"I think we should go to the racecourse, and do a bit of poking around. What do you say to that?" Booth suggested.

His girlfriend nodded eagerly.

"But..." Brennan added, knowing that there had to be more to it, reading his expression.

"You need to tell Cam about what we know, and what's going on, and I need to do a what more background research I can. I'll pick you up from the Jeffersonian at two?"

"Sounds like a plan." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you then."

"Okay." He grinned - wide, and goofy.

She chuckled, and kissed him on the lips. "Don't worry; we've got tonight. Professional for now, right?"

"Right."

He pulled her in by the waist, and embraced her for a few moments, ignorant to the agents not too far away.

They broke away, and Brennan made her way to the door before he could reel her in again. "Later."

"Thanks for the coffee."

"No problem," she called over her shoulder, sparing him one last look before disappearing entirely.

Two hours. Two hours to the examine evidence, and wait for their expedition.

She didn't know how she was going to last.

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><p><strong>Whew! Great to be back! <strong>

**Okay, just a couple of things to clarify:**

**- This is a couple of weeks after the last chapter - it's been a slow case, but I'm not going to plunge into excessive detail**

**- Brennan's brother Russ is going to come and visit with Amy and their girls**

**- Everyone knows about B&B's relationship (clearly...cough...with all of the PDF going on)**

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><p>Thanks for reading!<p>

If you have the time, I would LOVE for you to pop in a little review - it's been a wee little bit of a while since I last posted, and it would help me so much to know what you think.

Thanks again guys for tuning in - I'll try and post again as soon as.

Lots of love

Xx G


	25. Part II: An Open Gait

**Hey y'all!**

**Sorry I made you wait - life's busy! :P**

**Enjoy! x**

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><p><strong>25. An Open Gait<strong>

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><p>"I thought I told you to take Joey out for his sprint half an hour ago!"<p>

"I'm sorry boss, but Kelly told me to take out Tweedie-"

"You report to me. Not Kelly."

"Sir-"

"Just get outta my sight. I better see you on the track in twenty, or you can kiss your month's pay goodbye."

Booth and Brennan observed the argument from afar, and as the jockey walked away, they made their advance.

"What has this man got to do with the victim?" Brennan flipped open the folder she held as they approached.

"Well, after I talked to Cam about her, I did a Bing search of major trainers that use this track for their training instead of privately owned ones."

"Why horse trainers?"

"Horse racing trainers know everything about anything at their tracks. If Phoebe Caullts was hanging around this particular track, then this guy's sure to know about it."

"He sounds English," she mused, staring at the sheet of paper with a furrowed brow. "But it says here that he's an American citizen…?"

"Strangely enough, Bones, people can apply for citizenships-"

"And he's the horse trainer here?" Brennan verified as she studied the profile, comparing it to the man before them.

"Unfortunately."

Brennan furrowed a brow. "Why is it unfortunate? He could be the murderer, so, logically, it would be very fortunate for us."

Booth regarded her with interest. "I thought you didn't like to make assumptions during cases?"

"I don't – I'm not," she corrected defensively, eyes on the suspect. "It wasn't an assumption."

"You're being defensive." A smile crept on the corners of Booth's mouth.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are-"

Brennan elbowed him.

"Ow! Why?" He rubbed his ribcage.

"The suspect is moving away."

The short man was storming towards the white racing fence line, where a slight, chestnut Thoroughbred was working at a steady pace.

With her free hand, Brennan reached out and tugged her boyfriend's ear playfully. "Work first, teasing later; we've got a job to do."

Booth rolled his eyes at her, before picking up his pace. "Excuse me," he called out to their suspect, and withdrew his badge.

Much to the partners' surprise and chagrin, the polite interruption was ignored.

The agent was again, disdained when he called out a second time.

The two exchanged glances of question.

"Hey!" Brennan shouted out, loudly enough for the entire racecourse to hear.

Booth didn't reprimand her for yelling. Fore mostly; it caught the man's attention, and secondly - the man was just rude; after the way he could mouth off at his employees, there was no way he was _deaf_ as well as uncouth.

"Mr Baxter?" Brennan addressed, as they came up beside him.

"Who's askin'?" the trainer spat, eyes narrowed warily.

Booth flashed his badge. "Special Agent Seeley Booth, this here is my partner Dr Temperance Brennan. We just have a few questions for you."

"I ain't done nothing. Those two Caultts' sister go on bender again, it ain't my fault."

"We said nothing about any 'Caultt' sisters," Booth replied with a frown.

"Sisters?" Brennan picked thoughtfully, apparently not hearing Booth.

Baxter shrugged, and cast his eyes over to the track, where the chestnut was working up a pace. "Half sisters."

"So you know Phoebe Caullts from around this area?"

"Of course I have; she works for me…or _used_ to, anyways. Bitch hasn't shown up for work in nearly two weeks."

Booth stared at him without expression; he was clearly unimpressed.

"It might not be her fault," Brennan put in suddenly, where her partner faltered for words. "Maybe she physically _couldn't_."

Baxter eyed the two sceptically. "Somethin' happen to her?"

"Phoebe Caullts was murdered, Mr Baxter, and evidence suggests that a relative of hers - perhaps a sibling – was killed also," Booth informed the man.

"Her remains were found on these premises," Brennan supplied.

Baxter started. "Where abouts?"

"In that large pit" –Brennan pointed in its direction- "over there."

"The old manure pit," Baxter elaborated for them. "It was dug out for the new water dam." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I guess you wanna know whether I killed her, and buried her body there, right?" Upon the interested expressions he received, the man shrugged. "So I watch crime shows, okay? Get over it."

"Well, did you, then?" Brennan asked.

"Did I what?"

"Did you kill her and bury her body?" she answered, point-blank.

"_Bones_," Booth chided underneath his breath. The word _unprofessional _sat on the tip of his tongue, on the verge of rolling off.

Baxter scoffed and shook his head. "I know it's hard to believe, but I don't know anything. I haven't _been_ here."

Brennan recalled Booth's information from earlier. "Isn't it your business to know everything, though?" she wondered aloud, eyes questioning. "Surely, if there had been a murder, and the body had been recovered at _your_ track…wouldn't _you_ know about it?"

Baxter shifted on his feet. "I have a family, believe it or not, and we were on a holiday together." He folded his arms. "Two weeks I was away. _Two_. And I didn't want a thing to do with this hole. Any chance I can, I get away from this place, and let the co-trainer take over; I more than willingly hand over the reins-"

"Weren't you just getting furious at a jockey because they were listening to someone else's orders and not yours?" Brennan fired quickly. "You hardly sound like the sort of person that enjoys someone else running your show."

"Eavesdropping, eh?" His arms dropped by his side, and he started to walk away. "Bloody cops. You're all the same. Screw you and your manipulation tactics."

Booth and Brennan jogged after him.

"Can you tell us anything about Phoebe at all?" Booth asked shortly, patience tiring. "What she did specifically, who she hung around with…any boyfriends…? That sorta thing."

"She exercises the racers in the mornings. That is, when she shows up; otherwise we just give the job to a hopeful school student who wants some extra cash."

"And what do you know about her background?" The anthropologist asked, before Booth could get his own questions in.

"Totally smitten with a boy this boy, then he went to Afghanistan and she was pregnant with his kid. He was killed out on a mission or something… she was still in school at the time, but after she dropped out she went and lived with her half sister…Lizzie. Lizzie Caullts. Those two have been inseparable ever since. At least…until now, I guess." For a moment, Brennan almost thought it looked like he cared.

And then his eyes hardened with something she couldn't fathom.

"Look, I gotta do my job, and I know you gotta do yours, but at least go and look at paperwork or bother someone else, 'cause I sure as hell can't afford to be set back anymore than I already am."

Booth pursed his lips.

Brennan circled her slender fingers around his forearm. "Thank you, Mr Baxter, for your time," she told the trainer with sincerity - whether it was feigned or not, Booth could not tell. "We'll be in touch."

Baxter nodded once - grim, and tight.

She returned the gesture, and steered her partner away.

"What are we going to do now?" Booth asked her a little exasperatedly. "I still had questions I needed to ask him."

"Well I'm sorry, but I'm sure you knew just as well as me that he wasn't going to say anything more."

"He seemed pretty loose-lipped on the details."

She pulled him to a halt. "Do you really think so? I mean, think about it; he was only telling us the information that we could have found out from any of your sources at the FBI. For someone who watches crime shows, you'd think he'd know what we are capable of."

"Well, then, accepting your 'crime show' theory, wouldn't that also suggest that perhaps he knows a little bit about law enforcement liking _cooperation_?" Booth folded his arms across his chest. "I think he was giving away a fair bit Bones, and I reckon it would only make sense for him to do so, because he wanted to appear _cooperative_. It would mean we wouldn't assume him to be the killer." He then fell silent, observing her hesitation as she processed the probability.

"I can see where you're coming from," she said eventually.

"Great-"

"But I don't think he did it."

"I'm not contradicting you Bones, by why don't think he did it?" He took a step closer. "It wouldn't be a _gut_ feeling, would it?"

She rolled her eyes. "I think we should talk to Kelly."

"The other trainer?"

"Yeah. What do you say?"

"I say tomorrow…or the day after that, because I really wanted to check out Caultt's condo before we headed back."

"But we're already here, Booth-"

"Do you really want to endure more tight-lips and arguments right now? It's been a long day."

"Not for me it has." Brennan shrugged, and then her eyes brightened with an idea. "We could always split up," she suggested. "You go there, I stay here, and you could pick me up when you're done-"

"Woah, woah. We do not split. Ever."

She gave him a reprimanding look. "We've done it plenty more times than I think you've noticed."

"We do not split," he repeated, firm as a boulder.

"I say we split, just this once." Her eyes widened. "Just this once." She stared him down.

He groaned. "I don't like this."

She smiled secretly. "I suspect you're not supposed to." She turned on the charm, revealing a set of white teeth. "Pick me up in an hour or so."

"Half an hour."

"An hour."

"Forty-five minutes."

"Fine." He went to walk away, but hesitated, seemingly worried. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Brennan smiled sympathetically. "Trust me." She kissed his cheek. "I've gotten better; I'll be fine."

Convinced enough, Booth made for the car, glancing back several times doubtfully, while his partner strode back towards the stables with a determined step. Though he felt strange about leaving her on her own to do the 'people stuff', he knew that he had made the right decision.

He just hoped that she would nail it.

* * *

><p><em>Detective Brennan! Don't know about you,<em>

_but I always love it when she does a bit of the thinking!_

_Thanks for reading guys! - And to the reviewers of last chapter (don't worry, I didn't forget you!) I really appreciate it :)_

_Oh, and don't be a stranger! :) x Let me know what you think - new readers, or old! (I mean, why else do they make that adorable little review button..?)_

_Will update as soon as I can! xx_


	26. Part II: Taking A Beating

_Sorry this took a little while! Have fun ;) x G_

_**WARNING:** This chapter includes language that may come across as offensive to some, and I didn't think that I needed to rate the whole story 'M' for a paragraph of cursing. My apologies if it does offend you, but it was necessary for one of the characters. I apologise if it upsets any of you, but it is only a brief use of the 'f' word a couple of times. That's all - any other language used, I have already used throughout the story. xx_

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><p><strong>26. Taking A Beating<strong>

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><p>It was so <em>heavy. <em>

Brennan tried again.

The large door wouldn't budge.

_Perhaps it was locked?_

She grazed the area for another alternative.

She couldn't go around the front again, and risk being seen by the trainer Baxter. Although Booth believed that the man's cooperation wasn't genuine, Brennan didn't want to irritate him incase it was; he had already told them to leave them alone, and although Brennan worked with the law, she believed in courtesy.

Living through her father's murder trial had taught her a few things, and that had been one among them.

She spied an open window.

It was pretty high up, and quite small, but there was a large dumpster bin beneath it, which meant that she could holster herself up. Without thinking twice about it, she advanced towards the window, and placed an upturned bucket to help her step up.

Once on top, and subconsciously keeping an eye out for any persons, Brennan peered in through the small crevice.

A horse stomped restlessly below in its stall.

It was a fair distance down, but as she inspected the area below more carefully, she discovered a raised concrete water trough off towards the right. If she could stretch a leg out farther enough, she could use it as a little ledge, and it would help break the distance to the ground, if she were to tumble.

Did she dare?

Of course she did. But even if she did succeed, what was she looking for? Had it been a lie when she had told Booth that she was going to talk to more suspects, or had she really intended to poke around? What ever her intentions were, was it worth sneaking in through the window just to carry out the former? It felt more like she was doing so for the latter.

She encouraged the window to open further with a gentle push of her palms. The bay horse looked up at her curiously.

"Hey there," she crooned lowly. She clicked her tongue.

The horse's ears pricked.

Brennan took a deep breath, and crouched down, sticking her first leg through the small opening. Then, the second. Feeling around for the trough beneath her right foot, she pushed her body downwards with her arms - ignoring the discomfort that followed when they bent unfavourably. As soon as she went to jump down, however, her waist felt choked. The more she tried to pull away, the more it resisted.

She glanced up at the window: the wrap from her trench coat was snagged in a thick, rusted nail attached to frame. Bracing herself by placing a second foot against the rim of the trough, and gripping to the frame, Brennan pulled against it, tugging viciously.

Behind her, the horse snorted and moved about nervously.

She yanked once more — hard, and rough.

It gave, and she tumbled back into the stall. The horse whinnied nervously.

Winded from her abrupt fall, for a moment Brennan could only stare upwards at the four, tall legs and towering body in a frozen state of shock. Pain shot through her back and elbows.

The horse groaned; a deep, throaty sound, which was soon followed by another snort, and then a neigh.

Footsteps hastened towards the stall, and before Brennan could comprehend what was happening, two strong arms tore her from the ground, and pushed her out into the aisle.

Brennan's eyes caught those of her saviour; a girl, who could be no more than seventeen. Attempting at concealing her surprise, she watched as the girl settled the horse down with murmurs and soft, gentle strokes.

When all was well, the girl exited the stall and shut the door as quietly as she could.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" she hissed. "If my father caught you in here, he'd have you guillotined!" She was English, but her accent was somewhat rougher than Blake's.

Brennan shook her head in bewilderment, trying to organise her thoughts. "You just-"

"Saved you," she cut in. "I know."

"And you're-"

"Blake's daughter. Yes."

"Thank you," she said with sincerity. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there."

"Probably the victim of Fabio's hooves, if you had stayed down there any longer."

"Fabio…?"

"The inmate whose cell you just invaded…"

"Oh, right. The horse."

The girl grimaced.

"You were very brave," Brennan told her.

She blushed. "It was nothing; lived around horses my whole life."

"Is that so?"

She nodded, and seemed to be deliberating something. "I'm Ashleigh...Baxter - I gather you met my father not so long ago?"

"Yes, with my partner." Brennan studied her warily. "Your accent…"

"Mum is Australian, and Dad's English. I'm lucky; I got to be American."

"You say that with sarcasm."

"I hate it here," she answered blankly. "I want to go home."

"Oh." Brennan was taken aback. "Where is home?"

Ashleigh's emotionless stare suddenly turned hard. "You should probably leave; if my father sees that you're still here, he'll have your head."

"I'm not quite so ready to leave yet," Brennan differed. "Can you tell me where 'Kelly' is? I gather that she is the other trainer."

The teenager's mouth twisted bitterly. "Being worried about getting in my father's way is one thing; crossing Kelly Van Der Lyden is suicide."

"Suicide?"

"She's a total psycho."

"Why would the stables employ a psychopath; shouldn't she be institutionalised?"

Ashleigh's eyebrows rose.

"Not medically," she corrected slowly. "Just in _personality_."

"Of course, sorry."

Ashleigh took a deep breath. "I heard what you said to my dad," she revealed, eyeing the scientist, "…about Phoebe. Is it really true? All of it?"

Brennan nodded.

The girl's eyes welled. "She was nice."

"Were you friends with her?"

"No," she replied quickly. "It's just weird, you know? I mean, I saw her every day. That's all."

Brennan could sense that she was uncomfortable, so she changed direction. "What can you tell me about Kelly?"

Ashleigh seemed to speak as if the whole world was watching, when she replied lowly with, "She's nasty. She has a horrible temper — sometimes, when she's angry, she hits the horses. Or, if there isn't an animal nearby, she'll strike a person instead."

"Why hasn't anyone reported her?"

"Why didn't Hitler go to jail?" The teenager fired back rhetorically. "Look, it's the way the world works; people that are higher up in the pecking order don't get dobbed on."

"_Dobbed_?"

"'Told on,' if that makes more sense, then." She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, and slouched her shoulders. "Look, I really don't want to say anything else."

"Then why did you say anything in the first place?" Brennan folded her arms across her chest.

"Because Phoebe was a good person, and she didn't deserve to be…_murdered_." Ashleigh seemed to almost choke on the last word.

"Ashleigh!" A booming female voice called out.

"Is that her?" Brennan asked warily.

The girl's eyes widened with worry. "You need to leave," she warned.

Brennan didn't take heed.

"Go!" Ashleigh urged desperately. "Down the end of the aisle, there's a red door; it's the feed room. At the back, you'll see a small door that we use to bring in new stock. Use it, and get out!"

Reluctantly, Brennan went to move towards the exit; not because she wanted to, but the evident panic in her companion's voice made her skeptical. Just as she turned on her heel to walk, another's stopped.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Brennan's heart leapt; not because she was afraid, but because the woman's tone and address made her skin crawl. Intuition said that this person was the murderer. And, for one of the first times in her life, she was gladly happy to follow it.

Swivelling slowly, she took in Kelly's personality from head to toe; apparel, to the bitter, nasty twist her mouth and iron set of her jaw.

"Answer me, bitch," she sneered.

Brennan's eyes narrowed. "Try addressing me more politely, and then I might tell you."

"Fuck off."

"Don't speak to me like that."

"What? You're going to fucking make me?"

"And all ill-bred people wonder why their looked down on," Brennan scoffed, anger rising in her chest.

"Snob-ass rich bitch. Get out of my face. Get out of my stables." She took a threatening step closer.

Brennan stood her ground. "Make me; I have my rights. And I'm here for a very important reason-"

Kelly took another step closer. "You're all the same. Rich bloody snobs. What; do you want to buy up this business too?"

Brennan looked at her incredulously. "I'm a forensic anthropologist, not an elitist business person who has come to steal away you life's work, for god's sakes."

She settled down. "You're not?"

"No, I'm not. I've come to talk to you about Phoebe Caullts-"

"I don't want anything to do with her," she answered quickly. "Piss off, while I still allow it."

"Miss Van Der Lyden-"

Kelly took a threatening step forward. "Leave now, or I'll make you."

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Brennan warned.

"What? Afraid I'd scratch your pretty little face?" she retorted. "Last chance, princess."

The anthropologist was immovable.

Kelly struck out at her, but Brennan caught her arm swiftly and sent her propelling towards the ground. Bending the limb behind her back, she held her down with her foot. "Go and try that again," the doctor hissed through her teeth. "I dare you."

Kelly was quiet for a moment, other than her huffing and puffing. "All right!" she coughed ultimately. "All right! Let go of me. I'm sorry."

Brennan slackened just the slightest.

Kelly took her opportunity. Springing to her feet, she lurched at Brennan and gutted her, pushing her up against the door of a stall. Back hitting the large bolt, Brennan gasped for air, winded. _Booth, _she thought inwardly, _where are you? _Followed by the unbidden, _this wasn't a good idea…_

The trainer put her hands on her hips, and stared her down. "Go to Juvenile for a couple of years," she explicated darkly, "and you pick a few things up."

Brennan's opponent paced in front of her. As she watched her, she discerned a vice: something was wrong with the woman's stride; it was somewhat laboured.

Her right knee was stiff.

_She could take her down._

Fighting with all the strength she could muster, Brennan struck Kelly's leg painfully with a powerful kick.

The woman screamed in agony, and doubled over.

"What did it, Kelly?" she puffed. "Is it ligament damage? A sprain?"

"Stupid cow."

"A cow did it?" Brennan knew that the insult had been meant for her, but she brushed it off. "Or perhaps it was one of the other animals that you beat. I can't sympathise with you, though; they've got the right idea."

"Rot in hell."

"I don't believe in hell, but you will."

Kelly spat at her, and scrambled to her feet. She was just about to go for Brennan again, when a voice yelled out.

"Don't you dare _touch_ her!"

Brennan sighed inwardly with relief.

_Booth._

**- ~ B&B~ -**

"She touched me first!" Kelly pointed a thin finger at Brennan.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "How old are we?"

"She's my partner. I'm FBI; I wouldn't be pointing fingers in your position." He flipped open his badge. "Now, I'd just like to ask you a few questions."

"I'd like to get some ice first, if you would be_ so_ kind," she said evenly, scorning his manners.

Brennan's jaw dropped. "Why couldn't you speak to me that politely?"

Kelly shrugged. "You were a bitch."

"You don't even know me!" she exclaimed in her defence.

"Yeah, but I know your type."

"That's no excuse for foul manners!"

"Bones," Booth cautioned quietly, wishing for no more than peace.

Brennan took a deep breath. "Fine." As Kelly began to walk away, and they followed her, she muttered under her breath to her partner, "She did actually touch me first; she tried to take me down."

"I know, Bones."

"Can you charge her?"

He chuckled. "I think she's already paid the price."

Brennan frowned. "Perhaps, but she hasn't learnt from the experience."

"Touché."

Kelly returned to them, pressing an icepack to her ribcage. "You're a damn good kicker," she muttered, wincing. "You a soccer player?"

"I have practised karate and other asian arts of defence."

"Right…" Kelly turned her attention to Booth. "What is it that you want?" Her eyes did something funny.

_Did she just wink at him? _Irritation bubbled jealously in Brennan's stomach.

Booth revealed a photograph of the victim. "Phoebe Caultts."

"What about her?"

"How would you describe your relationship?" Booth questioned.

"Distant. I never really spoke with her much." She took a step closer to Booth. "But I'd like to speak more with you…"

"Okay, back-off," Brennan cut in, unable to curb her tongue. "He's taken."

Kelly's mouth screwed stubbornly. "Do you think that's ever stopped me before?"

Brennan shuddered.

"Woah, woah, ladies, c'mon." Booth placed his hands out, palms facing them defensively. When he thought Kelly wasn't looking, he winked at his partner. "Ms Van Der Lyden -"

The woman in question was suddenly summoned. "Kelly!"

Her head tore towards the source of the sound. "Yeah?"

"Honey's building up a sweat again!"

"So?"

"I think we need the vet…"

Kelly sighed, and look at the partners. "Can we do this later?"

Booth shook his head. "This is a murder investigation, we can't do laters-"

"Murder or not, I need to attend to that horse, or there'll be another death for you to investigate." Kelly was already moving away.

"You're not surprised?" Booth followed her a little.

"Surprised about what?"

"The fact that your employee…or co-worker was murdered."

Kelly turned around. "Look, this is probably going to sound like the most horrible thing I've said in my life-"

"I doubt it," Brennan interjected.

The trainer flashed her a glare, and continued. "…That girl wasn't worth more than this horse I gotta tend to, and I don't feel remorse for saying so."

"What's wrong with the it [the horse]?" Booth asked.

"Bad leg," she replied simply. "Looks like it'll have to meet the Green Dream."

"Kelly!" The desperate voice came again.

"Don't go anywhere; we'll need you again for further questioning…" he trailed off, as she began to jog away.

"She won't run," Brennan assured him, when he was out of ear shot. "Ironic, because is what she's actually doing, though."

"How do you know?"

"She was in the Juvie system when she was younger; this job is probably all she has." Brennan paused after she said this, deliberating something that had come to her attention. "Did you see a girl, when you came in and saved the day?"

Booth shook his head. "No, why?"

"There was…" She sighed. "Never mind. Let's get out of here."

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

"You know we'll have to back there at some stage," Booth told her, after they had been travelling for ten minutes or so.

"I know. But I think you should do the talking from now on."

He chuckled. "Giving up on being the detective already, eh?"

She shook her head in defeat. "You're right; people aren't my strong point."

"I think you're pretty good with people, Bones," he contradicted.

Brennan remembered her fight with Kelly.

Booth's thoughts seemed to be on the same wavelength, because he assured her with, "That woman was a psycho; I think your brawl was kind of inevitable."

Brennan remembered the girl. "Booth..."

"Yeah?"

"I met Blake's daughter - she's who I was with before you came."

"Oh yeah, what was she like?"

"Seventeen. Strong. But she was afraid of Kelly. She was upset when I told her about Phoebe, too, even though she brushed it off."

He nodded, taking it in. "I'll have a chat to her next time. Now, lets not talk work anymore. Just relax." He switched on the stereo, and found the common pop station.

While he hummed along quietly to the radio, Brennan curled against the passenger door, and massaged her temples - trying to block the ache in her back, and the throbbing in her arms. Though she had met the stall door with quite some force, she knew that the majority of he pain was owed to her tumble back into the stall.

She couldn't tell Booth about it; he was extremely protective, and would most likely over react. Vowing on silence, she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Are you okay, baby?"

She smiled tiredly. "Just exhausted." It wasn't a lie; not entirely, anyway. "I'm so glad that it's Sunday tomorrow."

Booth's expression shifted.

"What is it?" She wondered aloud at his change.

"Nothing's the matter."

She gave him a reproachful look.

He lifted his shoulders, and dropped them in defeat. "I don't get to spend the night with you," he revealed. "That's all."

Brennan's eyes melted, and her face softened. "You know we spend the weekends apart, Booth. It was a mutual agreement."

"Yeah, but what if it didn't have to be that way?"

A brick shifted on Brennan's wall of defence. "What do you mean?"

"I hate spending time away from you," he told her, ultimately, unashamed. "I don't like that I miss out on seeing you when we have free time."

"But you have church, and then Parker, and I have-"

"Nothing," he finished for her. "You have work, when you make it. I'm just saying, make _me_ your weekends. And then, maybe during the week, if our workload is hectic, we can spend a night apart…or not." He added the two words with a secretive smile.

She smiled sweetly. "I thought that was a marriage proposal for a moment."

A glitter of glee danced in his eyes. "What if it were?"

"But it wasn't," she said a little too firmly.

The glitter disappeared.

"Not that I wouldn't marry you," she amended quickly. "Booth, I love you. Don't mistaken my being cautious as a reason for you to see doubt in our relationship, please."

He reached over and grasped a hand that rested on her lap. Giving it a squeeze, he murmured, "It's okay, baby. I know." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

The light was just beginning to fade, as they pulled over to Brennan's apartment complex.

"Park underneath," she urged him. "I want you to come in."

Grinning widely, he complied. "Does this mean that you agree with me about what I said…?"

After collecting their things, the two headed towards the stairs.

"Would I have invited you home if I didn't?" She moved closer to him, so that their hands brushed with each stride.

He wrapped a free arm around he waist.

"Thanks, beautiful."

They stopped at the lift, and she gazed up at him. "Sure." Reaching up to meet his lips, she smiled beneath them when he met her kiss amorously.

He was her weekend. All other worries, and physical pain evaporated, and she allowed herself to become lost in the moment.

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><p><strong><em>Hope you like :) x I'll start working away on my poor little keyboard and try not to keep you guys waiting - btw, it gets good! ;) as always, love my reviews! - reviews = inspire. I write for you guys! I know that this isn't a 'current story' - because there's no baby Christine, or *shudders* that son-of-a-Pelant - I hate that guy so much... ( ! - and what-not, and I don't really expect you to, but I would love to know if you are out there, all the same! x cheers guys! xx<em>**


	27. Part II: Unforeseen Tides

**Heyyy!**

**Here's you next instalment, my awesomest readers! **

**Now, there's a link in this chapter to an episode from season six (because I jump in every so often and give you a bit of 'Bones' reality - just cause I'm a nice gal, and we all love HH's story lines) *cough* ***dude, you made us wait six years, so I'm smiling at you but secretly strangling you ***- metaphorically, of course (jeez, I'm not that violent!).**

**Anyways, who can be a clever cookie (King of the Lab! - Or Queens; whatever floats your boat!) and have a go at guessing which episode this is from, and mayyybe what it might have to do with the upcoming storyline?… (Lol, jks, I would never give away the 'O.M.G' of this baby…) ;)**

**Have fun!**

**xx ;)**

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><p><strong>27. Unforeseen Tides<strong>

* * *

><p>It felt so good to wake naturally; to rise with the sun, with no inhibitions. Brennan knew that she would never lose the sensation that relived itself every morning, when she woke to the tender featheriness of his stroke. She loved the fact that she could fall asleep on his warm chest, and feel as though nothing else mattered but the present; that she could end and begin her days feeling more loved and cherished than any other human being could possibly feel.<p>

On the lazy Sunday morning that it was, waking in his arms felt so natural, and soothing, she was sure that she would rather be no where else in the world for anything.

Eyes lifting without weight for the first time since she couldn't remember when, Brennan stared up to meet Booth's eyes. "Good morning," she murmured, smile creeping into her lazy tone.

He chuckled, and her body vibrated with its energy. "Morning." He kissed her sweetly.

"How did you sleep?" she asked quietly.

"Like a baby. You?"

"Like a baby." She shook with silent laughter.

"Do you want breakfast? I can cook."

"Mmm. What time is it?"

"Nearly eleven." Booth's eyes darted from the clock back to her.

Brennan's eyes widened. "You missed church!"

"I know."

"You know? But-"

"God will forgive me," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "Now, waddaya say to a shower?"

"Mmm...careful," she warned lightly. "Treat me to this much indulgence and I won't be able to draw a line between my pleasures." She kissed his cheek. "A shower sounds wonderful," she added, moving to untangle herself from the covers and sheets.

"Are you okay with just staying around here today?" Booth wondered aloud. "You don't mind not working?"

"We might be in the middle of a case, but everyone at the lab takes Sundays off…other than me. To be honest, I couldn't be more happy that I _don't_ have to do anything today." She jumped off the bed, and headed towards her ensuite.

Pulling her white camisole over her head, yesterday's injuries had been all but forgotten until she heard her partner gasp.

"Bones," he whispered painfully. "Did Kelly do that?"

Without thinking, she replied, "No."

His cool fingers traced her bruises. "Then what did?"

"I fell yesterday."

"Fell how?"

"It's nothing," she assured him, kissing him lightly on the forehead, "and I love you all the more for worrying…but it doesn't hurt, honest."

Two cool fingers kneaded her bruised back.

She wheezed.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Booth was unimpressed, but she heard the genuine concern beneath his tone, and his regret at causing her discomfort to get his answer. "Bones," he pleaded worriedly. "Tell me."

He turned her in his arms, and she covered her torso self-consciously.

It was inevitable. Despite her vow against loose-lips, she couldn't escape it. "There was no other way to get into the stables yesterday, because the doors were locked, so I used a window that was a little high up, and when I was going through, my coat got caught, and I might have fallen down. That's all."

"You _might_ have fallen down? Was it on the concrete?"

"It was in a horse's stall," she said quickly. "So…yes. But there was a bit of straw-"

"A _hors_e…you fell into a horse's stall? W-with a horse inside?"

She frowned. "Isn' that what I just said…?"

"Bones!"

"Look, I know it was stupid, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And I'm fine. Honestly."

He moaned. "I wish you have told me last night, and we could have at least iced it or something."

"Maybe I should have, but you would have flipped anyway."

"I am flipping!"

"Booth," she said calmly. "I didn't want to ruin a good mood last night. It's a couple of bruises, and I'm a little sore, but I live through to see another day."

He sighed in defeat, and his hands drooped uselessly by his side. "I swear to god, I'm going to have to bubble-wrap you and label fragile before you learn to take care of yourself."

She frowned. "Metaphorically…? Because mobility would be quite difficult in plastic wrap…"

Booth smiled. "I'm your bubble-wrap. My love is your label."

"I think I understand," she replied, reaching to switch on the water for the shower.

"Don't worry." He smiled. "You will."

**.**

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

**.**

**_The following day.._**

_"The FBI will give no further statements at the time being, for they-"_

_Click._

"I was watching that," Booth complained as added another teaspoon of sugar to his coffee

Brennan placed her hands on her hips. "The same story has been circulating for days now, Booth," she reasoned, putting down the remote, and diverting her attention back to spreading jam onto her toast. "Every time you watch it, it's like your beating yourself up for not finding the answers."

"That's because I am."

She sighed. "Well don't. It's Monday. A new week - start a fresh, okay?"

He submitted, and took a seat on one of her white stools. "We've had this case for over a month, Bones. We do a bit of patch-work here and there. I mean, when we first got it, we pushed it aside for a couple of weeks before we did anything else with it -"

"We were compiling evidence and an argument Blake's trial - and, if I recall correctly, that man had a law suit bigger than the nation's defence force. We were busy," she reasoned, taking a bite. "There's no time limit for justice, Booth. What if the racecourse people has begun digging for their dam in two months time, instead of a week ago? What if there had been heavy rains? What if their machinery had broken down? We wouldn't have known about Phoebe until then, now would we?"

"What's your point?"

"My point, is that, not only should you realise that the timing of this case wasn't exactly perfect - but that we could have found her in a month, or a year's time. You should have no reason to feel incompetent; we've taken our time with cases before, and we will take our time with this one."

He gulped down a mouthful of hot coffee, and exhaled sharply.

"Okay?" she pressed.

"Okay."

"Great." She took a slow bite of her breakfast, and stared off into the distance thoughtfully. Remembering something of significance, she announced, "There was this lecture today on the Peloponnesian War."

"What about it?"

"I wanted to go, originally."

"That sucks."

"Thanks for the sympathy."

"Sure thing."

Brennan glanced at her watch, and then at the clock on the wall. "We should probably get going."

Nodding, Booth tossed the remnants of his coffee down the sink, and after placing their dishes in the dishwasher, moved to find his blazer. Returning to the kitchen after an unsuccessful hunt, he didn't even need to ask.

"It's in my walk-in-robe," she told her partner with a telling shake of the head. "You left it on the ground; it was going to get creased."

He chuckled. "Was it in the bedroom?"

"Yes…"

"Then that's why."

She rolled her eyes, remembering their most recent rendezvous. As she restacked the dishwasher with their breakfast dishes, he ventured to the bedroom.

"Hold on." Brennan halted her boyfriend when they regrouped at the door minutes later. Reaching up to fix his tie, she held his eyes with an unbreakable gaze. "You're the best at what you do. You know that, right?'

Booth rewarded her with his goofy grin. "Well, I wouldn't say th-"

"Are you really going to try modesty on me? My unpretentiousness nature has got to make me the last person you should try to bother hiding your talents."

"Talents?"

"Yeah," she teased. "_Talents_." Using his tie as an aid, she yanked his lips down to hers.

Booth's pocket on his blazer vibrated.

"I hope that wasn't you," his partner laughed.

He shared her smile for a moment, and then whipped out his phone. Frowning, he read the caller ID. "It's Hacker."

Brennan moved her kisses to below his jaw, ignoring his words.

"Yo," Booth answered into the mobile.

The speech was too muffled on the other end of the line for Brennan to make any sense of what was being said, and Booth only _humphed_ in response, so she continued with her distracting activity.

Her partner tried to restrain her efforts, but eventually hung up. "You are impossible!" he growled in a playful manner, though she sensed tension.

She smirked. "So I've been told. Anyway, what's up?"

Booth's lips drew into a tight line.

"I'm not going to like what you have to say, am I?" Brennan folded her arms across her chest.

He shook his head.

**.**

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

**.**

The FBI techs were already present when Booth pulled the deserted warehouse, and many emerged from the entrance of the building with evidence bags already full.

Brennan squinted at the contents of a couple in particular, as the workers passed them. "Is that…money?" She looked at her partner for corroboration.

He had no answer; he was in just as much surprise as she was, apparently.

The usual putrid scent stung Brennan's nostrils upon entering the dark, damp building, though instead of growing used to the stench, it hung at the back of her throat. _It must be really decomposed,_ she assured herself. _It's okay to get a bit queazy when they're really bad. _

Reaching the room, she knelt down beside the victim and began examining his body. At the same moment, Caroline Julian entered.

"What are you doing here?" Brennan found herself asking, before she could prevent the blunt question.

Caroline gave her a reproachful look through narrowed eyes. "And I suppose all of this funky green stuff floatin' around don't mean much to you, does it?" She turned to Booth. "Why didn't the killer take the money?"

The agent was inspecting something intently in the wall.

"Booth?" Caroline tried again.

He turned halfway. "It's a handmade bullet," he told them, facing their persons. "The killer was never interested in the money."

The judge frowned, but the clogs of Brennan's mind were already churning when Booth replied to their unspoken question with, "It's Broadsky."

The entire forensics team seemed to freeze for the split second that they spent acknowledging the new information.

"I have an ID," Brennan informed them, breaking the spell. "Walter Sherman," she read slowly, watching the two law professions for any reaction. "Ever heard of him?"

Both shook their heads.

"He was probably a bad guy anyway," Caroline supported.

Booth grimaced. "It doesn't matter. I don't care whether he was, or not. Broadsky isn't the law, and it isn't up to him." He made for the door. "I just want this to be over, and to put the son-of-a-bitch away."

"Amen," Caroline followed his lead.

Brennan turned to the waiting techs. "You know what to do; send the remains back to The Jeffersonian, and don't forget sample of everything." She stripped her gloves and disposed of them in a plastic bag one held. Before her exit, she faced them once more. "No mistakes on this one."

They nodded in agreement.

* * *

><p><strong>Argh no way! Damn that Broadsky! What does this mean for B&amp;B - trouble in paradise? (no spoilers intended) ;)<strong>

**I'd love to hear from you lovelies - let me no whether you likes! (And you too anonymises! I mean, now that they've added that cool as new comment box!)**

**Thanks for reading guys! (and reviewing/fav/alerting) love you lots! :)x**


	28. Part II: Imperviousness Isn't Strength

**'Sup! :)**

**[PLEASE READ!] Alrighty - I made a wee little mistake last chapter: I wrote 'Walter Sherman' **_**(from The Finder)**_** instead of Walter Crane**_** (the victim from episode 15, "The Killer in the Crosshairs") **_**Now, considering this IS in fact a tie-up with that episode, just so we're clear - the victim's name is Walter **_**Crane**_**, not Sherman!**

**Thanks for putting up with me guys! ;) I know, I'm horrible :P**

**x**

_**[DISCLAIMER] I understand that, in the past chapter and next few, that I have taken bits from the episode "The Killer in the Crosshairs", consequently because, although this story is AU, it does sort of follow on in its own sort of 'season six'. I do not own Bones, or the characters - they belong to Fox Broadcasting and Hart Hanson. This is merely used for recreational purposes.**_

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><p><strong>28. Imperviousness Isn't Strength<strong>

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><p>Angela Montenegro Hogins' morning had consisted of full breakfast cooked superbly by her husband, and sorting out her plan of attack on deciphering the evidence she had on the Caultt's case. Until Hodgins had rushed into the kitchen, pulling a T-Shirt roughly over his head and cussing lowly, she had been content with following her routine - which had become pending pattern since the young female victim was discovered.<p>

At that moment, however, she knew that her husband knew something that she didn't, and that it wasn't good news.

"Just tell me, Jack," she pressed tiredly, placing her dishes by the sink.

He dropped his shoulders defeatedly. "We have another case."

Angela placed a hand on her womb and stared at him with blank surprise. "Wh…what is it?"

Hodgins' mouth twisted. "Broadsky; Booth just called."

His wife closed her eyes, and sighed sadly. "Poor Bren."

"Why poor Bren?"

Angela looked at him. "Because she just got Booth, and unless they're stronger than they give themselves credit for…this could really really drive a wedge between them; I mean, you know how upset Booth gets whenever you bring up this guy's name..."

Jack nodded in agreement. "Okay - poor Bren. And Booth. Honey, we need to get to work though - I mean, I have to check in with Cam and then I'll have to go to the crime scene and collect my own evidence because considering that there's money involved, the FBI techs have probably left-"

"Hodgy."

"Yeah?"

"Love you to pieces, as I do, and as much as I love your insaneness for conspiracy theories…"

He pressed his lips together in a tight line, and nodded again.

"Go, babe." She leaned forward and kissed him sweetly on the lips. "I'll clean up here; you get to work."

"Angie, are sure-"

"Go." She pressed her lips to his again. "I won't be long after you."

He smiled thankfully and planted a peck on her cheek, before slinging his satchel over his shoulder, and gathering up his jacket.

Once he had departed, Angela pulled her iPone from its charger on the wall, and hit Brennan's speed-dial.

Her friend answered on the second ring. _"Hey Ange - is everything okay?"_

The expecting mother chuckled. "That was actually my question for you, Sweetie."

She could hear the frown in Brennan's voice, when she replied with, _"But there's nothing wrong with me…"_

"No, Sweetie. I mean to ask you if everything is okay; like…how are you and Booth?" Angela faintly heard the man himself question the purpose of the call to his partner as she spoke.

Brennan sighed into the line. _"I…I can't talk now, Ange. I'll see you soon at the lab - we're about twenty-five minutes away."_

"Well I'll probably get there a little bit before you, so…I'll meet you in your office?"

_"Alright. I'll discuss it with you then."_

"Okay."

_"Okay. Bye."_

"Bye."

The call ended. Angela knew that her friend probably needed to vent, but, having Booth in the car meant that conversation was constricted - greatly, considering that their entire discussion would have been based around the man himself, and how Brennan was holding up. This case was bad news, and there would undoubtably already be strain on her relationship with her partner.

Anytime anybody ever discussed or dissected any part of Booth's personal life, things got complicated; that was just common knowledge, as a consequence of the man's sensitivity.

Removing the dishes that she had placed near the sink moments before, she stacked them in the dishwasher with great difficulty - courtesy to her bulging body - and then stowed away the breakfast stuffs, and wiped a wettex over the benches.

Hodgins had offered to hire a maid to clean - and, though she had refused at first, Angela had submitted as soon as she began her second trimester; she just felt constantly fatigued, and with the murders seemingly becoming more baffling - and the criminals smarter by day - there wasn't much time left in the day - nor energy - to play the perfect housewife, when she she was living for two.

As she dressed quickly for the day, her thoughts wondered over troubled tracks - back towards her friend. This was a big case, and she knew that although Brennan would refuse help, she would need it.

Deciding to pay a visit to Cam once she had had her conversation with Brennan, she departed her house with determination.

**.**

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

**.**

"So, what did Angela want?" Booth enquired politely after Brennan had ended her call.

Brennan went to answer, but halted, and held her tongue before the words could tip off. "Nothing," she ended up replying lightly. "She just wanted to know when I was getting in, is all."

Booth frowned. "I wish I could say you're a talented liar."

He received a furrowed brow in return.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brennan demanded.

"What did she want?" Booth repeated.

"To talk to me," Brennan fired back a little to heatedly. "She obviously has something that she wanted to discuss with me, and I thought it best not have our conversation in the car incase we breached sensitive topics that would aggravate _you_." She crossed her legs. "If I want to tell you about my phone calls, then by all means I will." _Settle down, _she chided herself. _What the hell, Brennan? Are you _trying_ to drive a wedge?_

Silenced by her vent, Booth rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, and dared to catch a glimpse of her facial expression. Her eyes were dark, and her body rigid. _Don't say a word,_ he thought, _let her have it._

Brennan closed her eyes. _He shouldn't have pressed for answers, _another voice piped defensively in another corner of her brain.

They shot open again.

_Shut up!_ She thought madly, staring daggers at the road ahead. _It isn't his fault that Broadsky murdered someone else. He'd be more upset about it than you are. Pull your finger out. Your stronger than this. Don't let it get to you._

The remainder of the car trip existed in a cold silence. When they did pull over at the front of the Jeffersonian - after what felt like a century, Brennan - embarrassed at her outburst, but not ready to grovel an apology - wasted no time yanking the door open and stumbling out with her belongings.

"Bones," Booth delayed her, tone apologetic. "I shouldn't have pressed if I had known it was going to fire you up so much."

Turning slowly on a heel, she looked him in the eye, but didn't say a word.

"Don't leave me angry, baby," he amended softly.

She arched an eyebrow.

Booth opened his door and slipped out. Standing in front her, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Right hand sliding down to her waist, he drew her closer to him, and smiled beneath her lips when he felt her respond. They remained in the passionate embrace for a minute or so, until they had to break apart - both too breathless to continue.

"You realise that…that only made me more annoyed with you," Brennan puffed, fighting to maintain her stubborn frown.

"Really?" His hand tightened on her torso, and he moved his other index finger to tilt her chin. "…Because it didn't seem like it did."

Her eyes dropped to her feet, and the atmosphere shifted. "I'm sorry - I guess…that I'm just expecting us to cra-"

"But we won't," he interrupted her. He touched his lips to hers - shortly and sweetly. "We're the centre, right?"

She nodded, though doubt still weighted down on her shoulders.

Pulling away from her, he walked around the front of his car and returned to the driver's seat. As she stood uselessly, watching him, he rolled down the window.

"Have lunch with me?" he asked.

She nodded absently, still light-headed from their kiss. "I'll see you then."

He smiled. "I love you."

"I know you do." She turned away. "Me too," she called over her shoulder, disappearing into the building, aware that her partner didn't leave until he saw that she was safely inside.

She knew that it was useless for him to make promises about how life would continue on normally - Booth hated breaking promises, and the demise of that one in particular would be inevitable.

Though she did enter her office deeply in thought, she could't understand why she got a fright seeing her friend sitting in her office chair. _That_, was an abnormality - only Booth even _tried_ to sit in _her chair._

Angela meant business.

The woman in question heaved herself out of her position, seeing the stern speculative expression her friend wore, and waved it off.

"So you couldn't talk, huh?" she twittered. "Things already that tense?"

Brennan unwrapped her scarf and settled down her things. "It's going to be a tough case, Ange. I've just got to work around it, and do the best that I can - for the both of us."

Knowing of whom her friend was referring to as the other end of _'us_', she took a seat upon the couch armrest, and stared her down squarely. "Sweetie, please don't see this as being 'invasive'"- her friend used her index and middle fingers to illustrate the word - "but just promise me that you'll take care of the 'us'."

Brennan watched her blankly. "I don't know what that means."

"Nurse your relationship like a newborn baby," Angela elaborated.

The anthropologist's brows furrowed, not comprehending. "From the breast?"

The artist sighed, and laughed. "Well, Sweetie, sex does-"

"Not fix everything," Brennan finished shortly for her.

Angela waited a moment, before correcting her. "No, Sweetie," she said. "I mean that you need to really take care of the 'love' end of your partnership, because with Booth off chasing baddies and saving the world, we all don't want to see stress of it all getting in the way of you too, and I'm sure you don't either."

Brennan shook her head. "I can't afford to think like that, Angela. I love Booth, and don't mistaken me for being cold-hearted, but we have a serial killer that has a bounty on his head, and probably mine too; if I let my emotional relationship get in the way of our professional relationship, then it could ruin everything - or even worse, get us both killed."

Angela's eyes widened. "Would you rather loose Booth - _emotionally _- than lose your professionalism?"

"That's not what I meant. Don't twist my words."

"I'm not twisting."

Brennan clawed her head with tense fingers. "I don't want to lose Booth, Angela. Never; it would destroy me. But at the moment, I need to focus, and be objective, and solve this case…and the other case. I see no other alternative than to put my head down, and not let anything get in the way, so later on there will be _nothing _to get in the way. Am I making any sense?"

Angela nodded quietly.

Brennan embraced her suddenly. "I love you Angela, and…as insistent and confusing as you can be, I love that you're always looking out for me. Let's just…play it by ear."

Angela's hormonal heart welled. "Oh, Sweetie, I love you too."

"I didn't realise that this was a mother's group morning," Cam's stiff voice came from the doorway.

"But I'm not expecting…" Brennan corrected her boss. "So technically it can't be…" She drifted off, reading Cam's expression. "What's the matter?"

Cam turned. "We have a murder - that's the matter. I have a date tonight, and I'm going to have to cancel it because we have no social lives."

Brennan and Angela sympathised.

"We'll be on it right away," Angela promised, moving to exit once Brennan had retrieved her lab coat, and together the three went to the platform.

For a moment there was the snapping of latex gloves moving into place on the hands of the team, and then Brennan stepped forward and took the lead examining the remains on the gurney before them.

"Where's Mr Nigel-Murray?" Cam wondered aloud.

Angela played with the keys on the platform computer. "He was talking to his sponsor."

"Oh?" Brennan lifted her head. "What about?"

"About my behaviour," The intern answered for himself in diminished voice, as he approached them.

His mentor frowned. "But your behaviour is immaculate…?"

Vincent stared at his feet. "My sponsor wants me to stop blurting facts…but I…it helps me keep people at an emotional distance, you see, so…"

"I understand," Brennan replied quietly, commiserating with her student.

Angela and Cam watched the exchange thoughtfully, though it was their boss who broke the silence.

"Perhaps we should focus on the case?"

All reconvened around the body, and Angela disappeared to her office.

"High velocity trauma severed the victim's spinal cord," Brennan noted into her earpiece. She turned to her intern. "Could you please bring up the victim's profile, Mr Nigel-Murray?"

Complying, Vincent stepped aside so she could read.

"It says here that he was born and raised in Virginia," she mused, and turned her attention back to the bones. "…But the nitrogen levels in his bones suggest that he was a Midwesterner." She met her colleagues' concentrated stares. "This person isn't Walter Crane."

At that moment, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

One new message, from an unknown number:

IGNORANCE IS BLISS. IN YOUR CASE, SO IS NOT BEING INVOLVED.

Brennan's heart jumped in its cage.

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

"Waddaya mean the victim isn't Walter Crane?" Booth argued into his phone. "The record says so."

Cam sighed on the other end of the line. _"Dr Brennan believes that the nitrogen levels in his bones suggest that he was raised in the Midwestern-"_

"Yeah, yeah, I got that. But that just means that everything's far more complicated-" Booth cut off when his phone buzzed for another incoming call. "Hold on, Cam." He glanced at the called ID. "Hodgins is trying to get me, so I'll just come down there."

"To hear it from Dr Brennan?" Cam sounded amusemed.

Booth ended the call.

Ten minutes later, he entered the lab, only to be steered to Hodgins' room by the man himself - who was nearly bursting with excitement.

"The money is counterfeit," he blurted as soon as the agent stepped through the door. He rambled on after that for few minutes about bills being bleached and printed with high denominations.

"Hey," Brennan's small voice came from the doorway, making Booth silence Hodgins with a pat on the back and follow her out.

Booth followed her to her office, and once inside, perched himself on the edge of her desk.

"So Cam told you about what we found?" Brennan asked - though it was more of a statement, and she played with the sleeves of her lab coat as she spoke.

"Yeah." He came forward from his perch, and took her wrists in her hands. "You seem a little disturbed, baby; are you okay?"

She shrugged. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

His head cocked sideways.

His uncanny ability to read people like children's books, meant that she was an open page to him in her vulnerability.

"I'm fine," she assured him, kissing him swiftly on the cheek. "But I can't do lunch."

Booth placed his hands on his hips. "Why not?"

"I need to spend some time on the Caultts case," she explained, reaching for her notepad and a pen.

"Babe, I think this one takes preference-"

"Phoebe has a family," she replied sharply, a lump rising in her throat. "A little boy, who isn't ever going to see his mom again - and...we don't even know where _he_ is. Her parents want her to finally come home. I _need_ to find out the truth, Booth. I need to give her back to her family - and if that means I have to sideline a counterfeiting criminal's case in order to do that, then so be it." She made for the door - on her way to the bone room.

"Bones…" He went after her.

She stopped. "Don't tell Cam where I'm going - if she asks, tell her that I'm working on the Crane case."

"I-"

She put a finger to his lips. "Please?" Dropping the index finger, Brennan stared up into his eyes, awaiting an answer.

Defenceless against the power of her two blue gems, he breathed a reply - "Okay."

She rewarded him with a small smile. "Can you do something else for me?" Came the second request. Upon receiving a nod, she continued with, "Can you find the little boy?"

"I will." He enveloped her in his arms. "In the mean time…stay away from the windows, okay?"

Brennan sighed with resign. "They've already moved Phoebe down to Limbo; there will be no windows."

They broke apart, and he stroked her cheek like it were the most delicate china he had ever beheld.

Turning, they went their separate ways.

Booth waited until he was sure his partner was well on her way, before walking in the direction of Cam's office. Wrapping on the door, he mentally apologised to Brennan.

_I'm sorry, Bones - but I have to take care of you._

Cam looked up from her work at the computer. "Hey Seeley - what's up?"

Booth - out of habit - rolled his shoulders, which she knew was an indicator of him being under some form of stress or discomfort.

"Where's Dr Brennan?" she piped, trying to spark an explanation for his visit.

The agent shoved his hands in his pockets. "You're Bones' boss…"

Cam furrowed a brow in confusion at the course of direction he had taken. "Last I checked."

"Is there any way to…lighten her work load?"

Cam folded her arms across her chest. "What do you mean by 'lighten'?"

He shrugged. "I don't know-"

"I do," Cam interrupted him, standing.

Booth's eyebrows jutted skywards. "You do?"

She nodded with a grim smile. "Angela visited me this morning, asking for the same thing - she believes that Brennan is going to go overboard."

"Well, I know I say to her that I felt like we haven't done as much on the Caultts case, but in theory it's a pretty dry case anyway, so I guess it doesn't mean we've worked any less…anyway, and now she's…"

"Trying to work both - and you're afraid that she's going to overload?"

Booth nodded.

Cam moved closer to him. "I have a solution…but she's not going to like it."

Booth frowned. "What is it?"

The woman before him exhaled as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I need you to have my back on this one, Seeley. I know you love her, but she isn't going to like this at all - even though it's what's best for her."

Booth hesitated, and then extended his hand.

Clasping it, Cam told him.

* * *

><p><em>Uh oh. What's the deal? :O<em>

_Sorry for keeping you waiting on another chapter, guys, RL is bloody busy. Anyways, this chapter was originally much longer, but I cut it down by half - my program doesn't have word count, so I only know how much I've written when I chuck it on this website. :S! Thank you to all who reviewed for last chapter (especially **alexindigo** - you know I couldn't get by without your support!) - I really appreciate it! - and also to the favs/alerts - you make me smile, guys!_

_Please be gems and drop me a review - don't read and run! I'll update as soon as I can -_

_xx_


	29. Part II: A Black Screen

**:) Sorry about the delay guys! Here you go... ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>29. A Black Screen.<strong>

* * *

><p>Brennan had been examining Phoebe's remains for over an hour when the next text message came.<p>

_**EVEN THE MOST IMPERVIOUS AREN'T BULLETPROOF.**_

Though she knew it wasn't wise, and the text message itself made her skin crawl, Brennan typed back with trembling fingers:

_**STOP TEXTING THIS NUMBER. YOU WILL BE FOUND OUT.**_

Simple - but it sounded wimpy.

Aggravated by her unknown messenger, she replaced the message with:

_**TEXT ME BULLSHIT THAT ACTUALLY MAKES SENSE AND THEN I CAN TELL YOU YOU GET F'D WITH GOOD CAUSE.**_

Shoving the phone back into her pocket with a dismissive huff, she felt a crack in her defensive wall; though she feigned confidence and hard cover, she worried, and her profession was chipping away at her. Turning her attention back to Phoebe, her eyes locked with remains before her, and she once again slipped into a trance. Though her stomach gnawed hungrily for a little while, it was soon overridden by a sickening churning, so Brennan repelled against the idea of stopping and getting something to eat.

"What are you trying to tell me?" She whispered to the victim after another hour or so. "What is it, that I can't see?" She picked up the separate bone, and examined it carefully. In her left hand, she took up Phoebe's right tibia. Compared the two.

Squinted.

Why hadn't she seen it before?

Cam had tried to run a DNA sample, but there was almost no marrow left on the tibia with the gaping hole. _Perhaps we don't need one, though,_ Brennan thought as she finally made a discovery: there were consistencies in the bones that corresponded to a form of disease - though she couldn't quite put a finger on what exactly it was.

Wendell Bray was excellent at identifying diseases.

Pulling out her phone - and shrugging off a strange mix of irritation and relief that there was no reply from 'anonymous' - she dialled her intern's number.

_"Hello?"_

"Mr Bray - it's Dr Brennan. I understand that it's your day off, but I need your help."

The door at the top of the staircase opened. Gazing up at it, she saw her intern staring right back down at her.

Still speaking into the phone, he said, "What is it that you need?"

Brennan wanted to smile, but she only felt her face tugging into a grimace.

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

"And you're sure?" Cam pressed, over half an hour after Wendell and Brennan had made their discovery.

Both nodded confidently.

Brennan passed her notes over to Cam. "You can read our diagnostics."

Their boss scanned the page thoughtfully. "Hypophosphatasia," she read aloud.

Again, the two anthropologists nodded.

"It's very rare," Brennan told her. "But it's consistent in both Phoebe's bones, and the Jane Doe tibia."

Cam eyed her colleague speculatively. "Genetic?"

Brennan looked at Wendell, and then back to her boss. "Yes."

"The two victims are related," Cam relayed.

"Yes. And, the disease is sometimes fatal," Wendell supplied, peering at their notes. "Genetic inheritance is autosomal recessive for the perinatal and infantile forms, but either autosomal recessive or autosomal dominant in milder forms."

"We believe that both victims were exposed to autosomal dominant, and that their cases were not severe," Brennan concluded.

Cam placed her hands on her hips. "Excellent. I mean, don't get me wrong - I'm glad you found something - but, why were you even working on Phoebe? She's supposed to be in storage."

"I won't just let it go, Cam."

Cam paused, and tried a different approach. "So what does this prove? That they're related, and share the same disease. Do we have cause of death?"

Brennan shook her head. "I can't find anything - and, although I could probably just say in my report that the disease killed her... it doesn't make sense; she was buried - no..._disposed_ of. She was a jockey, a mother, and a hard worker; it's not consistent with someone who is chronically sick, and her grave isn't consistent with someone who just happened to 'die' either."

Cam sighed. "How can you be so sure? Did you know her?"

"No-"

"Look, Dr Brennan…I just really think you need to let this one go, because I need cause of death, and I need a murderer. I need leads; this case is drier than the Sahara, and it's for that very reason that the victim was moved down to Limbo."

"Then let me find out what happened to her. Doesn't she deserve that?...I'll find it," Brennan argued. "I will."

Cam sighed, and sat down. "This isn't going to be another Lauren Eames case; I won't watch you let it tear away at you again."

"That isn't up to you. And I won't let it get that far-"

"You already have," Cam cut in. Sighing, she continued more evenly with, "You're supposed to be working on our current case, anyway."

"Then I'll make time for both."

"No, you won't. Not on my clock; I really need you on the Crane case - it's our main priority."

"Fine."

Cam frowned hesitantly. "Fine, as in, you'll stop? Or-"

"_Fine_, meaning I'll do it in _my own_ hours," Brennan answered tersely.

Wendell observed their argument quietly, but when the silence came, he had to break the ice. "I'll work extra; I don't mind. Put me on either case."

Submitting, but not taking her eyes off Brennan, Cam told Wendell, "Work on the Caullts case, because it'll be insulting Mr Nigel-Murray if we bring in another intern to help with his case."

Brennan folded her arms across her chest. "It shouldn't have anything to do with hurting anybody's feelings."

"You need the help," Cam answered shortly, patience tiring. "So this shouldn't have anything to do with your pride."

"Pride-?"

Wendell coughed. "And prejudice," he muttered, trying to add a touch of dry humour to the tense atmosphere.

Brennan's leg vibrated from an incoming message on her phone. She opened her inbox:

_**IMPERVIOUSNESS ISN'T STRENGTH.**_

Her expression gave her away.

Wendell put a hand on her shoulder. "Dr B?"

She shoved the phone deeply into her pocket. "My publisher," she lied. "I have to get back to the remains." She went to move towards the door.

"Whose?" Cam intercepted.

Brennan was already gone.

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

Minutes. Moments. Hours, had passed. And, all the while, Brennan had been doing what she did best; analysing. Being objective. Feuled by her argument with her boss, and driven by a personal attachment, she wasn't going to stop anytime soon. Until -

_**YOU THINK YOU HAVE IT UNDER CONTROL.**_

Fighting the urge to throw the phone as far as she could down the halls of bones storage, she deliberately placed it as far away on the corner of the gurney as she could. Like it made a difference.

She had been stalked before; crazy fans, creepy guys…and these messages could be from any combination thereof…but they were different. And this time, it felt as though the sender would jump out and present themselves...

"Dr Brennan," Cam called from the behind her.

Jumping out of her skin, Brennan turned to face her boss, and tried to catch her breath. "Dr Saroyan."

Cam looked sideways, and then back at her. "Expecting someone else?"

No reply.

"I think it's time to stop, Tempe," she told the anthropologist - all authority gone, and replaced with genuine concern. "It's getting late; you look exhausted."

Brennan glanced at her watch. "It's only quarter to seven…"

"And you have rings under your eyes bigger than Limbo itself," Cam replied shortly. "Come on." When it looked like Brennan was about to protest, she cut her off quickly with, "As your boss, I command you."

The side of Brennan's mouth lifted in a half-smile. "You _command_ me?"

"Yes, I do."

Resolving with the decision to come back to Limbo after Cam had gone home, she followed her boss upstairs.

As soon as they had emerged from the deepest basement, Brennan was alarmed to see all of her interns present - and Booth.

"What's going on?" she mumbled warily.

Angela met her eyes with some sort of sympathetic sadness - though the stare that bore into her felt more like one of regret.

It wasn't in any way reassuring.

"What's going on?" Brennan repeated, more firmly.

"We're bringing in additional workers," Cam announced.

"What do you mean?" The anthropologist immediately questioned.

"We're bringing in the anthropologist and his team from Montreal."

"But I have more than enough capable, educated students to complete research t-"

"We're not just doubling up on an anthropologist. We're getting an entomologist, a pathologyist and a couple of others too-"

"Bu we don't need them."

"Yes, we do."

"We haven't ever needed to before-"

"But we haven't been in this situation before!" Cam fired back. She took a deep breath. "Dr Brennan. We're all exhausted. Angela is pregnant. You're barely standing on your own two feet. We just need a bit of extra assistance to cover the other work that we can't manage at the moment."

"Cam-"

"Bones." Booth was the one to interrupt her this time, and he stepped forward when he did so. "It's for the best."

Brennan's eyes shifted from and irritated glare to a blaze of anger. "…_For the best? _You're siding with her?"

"This isn't about sides," Booth answered calmly. "It's about being smart; making the most logical decision."

Brennan stared at the small circle for a moment, meeting each of their eyes with same hurt, confusion - and then turned and stormed towards her office.

Cam moved to follow her, but Booth restricted her with an arm. "Let me go ," he counselled.

His old friend nodded once in understanding.

Booth took off.

"Bones," he breathed lowly as he entered her office. She stood in the centre of the room, facing away from him, hands on her hips. "Bones."

"What is it with you just _standing by_ these days?" Her response was coated with bitter razors. She turned. "Do you doubt that I can do it too?"

He shook his head. "I never said that I doubted you. I'm taking care of you."

"Yeah, well I don't need you to. I can take care of yourself."

"And you have, for a long time now - but now you have me by your side, and I care about you - I love you." He stood in front of her, and bowed his head towards hers. "I care about _where_ you are. _What_ you're doing. When _you're putting yourself in danger_ - sometimes of yourself. I care about you_ all the time_."

"We both know that that hasn't always been the case," Brennan muttered in reply, remembering Hannah.

Booth straightened, face pinched. "I'm not going to pretend you didn't just say that, but, hell, Bones - it's irrelevant, and it isn't the truth. I've always looked out for you. I love you. I've always loved you - despite of what might have come between us _in the past_." He positioned his face closely to hers again. "Anthropologically, you would say that the male will always, instinctively protect their mate, right? Well that's what I'm doing."

Intoxicated by his proximity to her, she wavered towards him on unbalanced feet.

"So come home," he coaxed in his low, husky voice, as he took her left hand between both of his.

She leant her forehead against his exhaustedly, and sighed.

Accepting her unspoken answer, Booth moved to pack up her things.

**.**

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

**.**

"I can cook dinner," Brennan offered as she walked through the door to her partner's apartment over twenty minutes later.

"I'll just call for takeaway," Booth substituted.

She dropped her belongings on the couch. "Am I to be rendered useless?" She collapsed down next to her things.

"Never." He leant over and kissed her head. "But tonight, we're gonna put our feet up, eat takeaway and watch crappy television shows. We're going to be _normal_."

Brennan smiled. "Is that even possible?" She reached for her laptop.

"What are you doing?" Her partner mused.

"Checking my emails," she replied coyly. "If you _must_ know."

"What - you'll have a full mailbox since you left work half an hour ago?"

"I just might," she replied lightly, tugging on his tie with the hand that didn't hold the computer in place. "I mean, I do get a lot of fan mail…"

Booth laughed. "Sure."

He made for the bedroom, and when Brennan could hear him rustling about in the bathroom, she opened up an internet page.

Typing into the local phone number and address website, she brought up her mobile phone, and entered the corresponding number from her mystery messenger. Wrapping her fingers against the metal of her macintosh notebook while she waited, an uneasiness stirred in her stomach. It was a stupid decision to be doing this while Booth was within a close proximity - and an even stupider decision, because she knew that she should have just told him when she received the first message.

The page loaded, and her heart fell dismally when it only read:

**No results found. Number unlisted.**

Exiting the page, and deleting her history, she was just in time to turn towards the sound of Booth's feet.

"What were you looking up on _Pages_?" he asked curiously, plonking down beside her on the couch.

"The phone number for Wong Fu's," she replied quickly.

"But you know it off by heart," he said.

"I couldn't remember whether there was a five, or three on the end. But never mind. I've done it now."

Booth cocked his head to the side.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "You and I haven't had Chinese since before you went to Afghanistan. Is it so crazy that my memory would be a bit dodge?" She set down the laptop on his coffee table.

"For you?" He pulled her towards him, and kissed her. "Totally insane."

**.**

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

**.**

_"Previously on The Vampire Diaries…."_

"No. Change it," Booth ordered immediately.

Brennan looked up at her boyfriend indignantly. "Stop back-seat channel surfing!"

"Oh please - The Vampire Diaries? What are you - sixteen?"

"Coming from the man who just _sounded_ like a sixteen-year-old!" She scoffed. Shrugging, she added, "I don't even know what it is - and you'd just prefer it if I switched to CSI or something, wouldn't you?"

Booth shook his head. "No way."

"Why not?"

"Because all I'd hear from you the whole time is how they're messing up the procedures, and how they're not factually correct."

"Because they're not," she argued lightly. "You're a better cop than them anyway - if that's any consolation."

He smiled. "Of course it is."

Brennan snuggled into his shoulder. "And you're better looking than any of them, too-"

"Apart from him?" Booth cut in, pointing to a fine specimen on the television screen.

Brennan watched the young, shirtless man for a moment. "No," she answered after a moment of observation. "He doesn't appeal to me. Boy-toy isn't my type." Her index finger played with the edge of his shirt.

"Really?" Booth seized the remote, and flicked onto a channel where middle-aged men were fishing on a pricey boat. He nodded his chin towards a topless man with a hairy beer-gut. "Me versus him," he challenged.

Brennan gagged.

Booth laughed. "Nice act."

Except his partner's expression didn't alter.

He straightened, and supported her up against him. "You okay?"

She tore herself from his arms and made a bee-line for the bathroom.

"Bones?" He shot from his seat and followed her.

She crouched beside the toilet, her hand sliding against the toilet's flush lever.

He knelt beside her, and combed the hair from her face. "Baby - you okay?"

"I think it's food poisoning," she coughed. "...I thought my noodles tasted off."

He reached up for the hand towel by the sink, and wet it under the tap. Dabbing it to her clamming forehead, he then helped her stand when she was ready.

"I think I'll just…" she began slowly, looking about her surroundings.

Booth stepped back. "Shower?"

She nodded. "Do you…mind?"

Though he couldn't really understand - given that they showered together almost all the time - he gave her the space she needed.

Brennan stripped down the clothes that now felt like a suffocating corset, and as she piled her bundle garments on top of Booth's cane washing basket, her phone sounded. Sticking her hand into the layers of material in search of her jean pocket, she was finally able to retrieve what she sought.

She wasn't even surprised; she'd been expecting it.

_**HOW WAS YOUR DINNER?**_

She swallowed hard.

_'__**You poisoned me?**__' _She typed back in reply.

And she immediately received one:

_**NO.**_

Confused by the response, she wrote one last message.

_'__**Back off.**__'_

She held down button to shut the power off a little more forcefully than necessary.

The screen lit up.

_**NO.**_

Throwing her phone into the basket, she stumbled backwards, and utensils clattered.

"Bones?" Came Booth's concerned voice from the next room.

"I'm fine!" She called back to him, switching on the water for a bath. "I just tripped."

Daringly, she pulled her mobile from the sea of clothes.

The screen was black.

The power was off.

She stared up at the basin mirror and met her own eyes.

They starde back at her with reserved terror.

* * *

><p><strong>It gets scarrier.<strong>

_You know where the button is - don't make me beg ;)_


	30. Part II: Alone

_Heyy ;)_

_RL's hectic. So's this story._

_'Nuff said!_

_xG_

* * *

><p><strong>30. Alone<strong>

* * *

><p>Brennan had been watching the steady rise and fall of Booth's chest for the better half of the past four hours. Her partner existed in a peaceful slumber, while she tossed and turned in a disturbed state of mind.<p>

She hadn't told Booth about the messages - she had already promised herself that she wouldn't - but her quilty conscience ate away at her.

_I shouldn't have to fell guilty, _she chided herself silently, _it wasn't my thumbs that initiated the contact in the first place._

_But you reacted, _another voice cheeked from the back of her mind. _You couldn't just leave well enough alone, could you?_

Nothing was _well enough._

Brennan rolled over.

_Tell him!_

_Don't tell him!_

Hot. It was too hot.

Pulling the covers back carefully, so not as to wake Booth, she invited the chill of the cold evening. The room was black, apart from the green glow of Booth's digital clock. Her clammy body soon cooled, and she began to shiver through her thin camisole. Straining her eyes through the dim light, she spied one of Booth's work shirts slung over the chair in the corner of the room, along with a pair of her jeans.

Aware that she slept beside a trained sniper, she slipped from the mattress as carefully as she could, and tip-toed to retrieve the shirt. Hands tentatively searching for his chest-of-draws in the dark, she tugged upon the top draw and took a pair of socks.

Clothing items in hand, and sparing her boyfriend a parting glance, she disappeared into the sitting room. When her jeans and Booth's shirt were on, she collapsed onto the couch, and tugged on the socks, inspecting the walls of the room as she did.

The retro analogue clock read quarter to five.

She still had another two hours before anybody would even _consider _rousing from their sleep.

She retrieved her boots and trench coat from Booth's valet stand by the door. Tuckering his shirt in, she peered out the windows, only to view a night sky that hadn't yet broken to dawn - coloured orange and pink by hectares of street lights. As she pulled the belt tight on her coat, she had already made her decision. Tearing a piece of paper from a pile of Booth's recycled mail, she took a pen from his desk, and wrote:

_Booth - _

_I've gone for a walk. I'll probably be back before you wake up, but if I'm not, don't worry - I won't be long after._

_Lots of love -_

_xx B_

Sticking it to the centre of his fridge with a spare magnet, she took the spare key to his apartment from her keychain, and departed.

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

Brennan welcomed the cold atmosphere of the morning - she loved the fact that her breath particles clouded upon exhale. That, as she walked through the sleeping suburb, lone vans were parked outside milk bars, delivering the daily paper. Though there was a logical reason for it - she was always bemused that it was always these small department stores, and service stations that we open in the mornings; that their world continued to spin while everyone was taking a break from it.

As she strode along the bitumen pavement, hands buried deep within her pockets, she contemplated the day ahead of her.

More investigating. More headaches. More arguments.

She hated serial killers. She hated the cases that dragged on. And on. And on.

Sometimes - in moments like the the present- she wondered what would happen if she just gave up. Threw in the towel, and bought a private island somewhere in the pacific. She could certainly _afford_ to do so - financially, she was set up for life. Booth could become an International Super Spy - work casually, as he pleased - and they could live together on a hideaway island. He, the secret agent, and she - the brilliant author, writing away her days, and studying ancient relics and tribal spots right at their doorstep to quench her thirst for anthropology.

Somehow, as she strode through the sleeping streets of Booth's Washington suburb - it felt like a dream just within finger's reach. And, for the first time in her life, she'd never wanted anything so badly - except for, when she had wanted Booth's requited love _(but even then, she had always known that she had had it, even when it had been verbally denied by both parties)_.

She could have it. _They_ could have it.

But then there was the Jeffersonian. Angela. Hodgins. Cam. All of her interns. The lost souls of the victims that wanted to be returned to their families; there were so many people that depended on her - that _needed _her. The last time she had done something for herself, Cam had been terribly upset - and, at the time, all Brennan had wanted to do was turn around and tell her coworker that going to Maluku had been the first thing that she had done for herself in years.

All the same, she knew that there was too much to lose.

Her students needed her, because if she were gone, the fellowship would fall through again.

Her friends needed her, and she needed them.

Brennan had no idea how she had once managed to exist with so little an emotional attachment to anyone; there wasn't a day that didn't go by, that she didn't need someone, or she didn't want to be there for someone else.

The sky was just beginning to break with rays of pink when she reached the roundabout that would lead into towards the city centre. Turning, she walked on the opposite side of the rode for a change, though when she passed the milk bar, she crossed over, and entered the little general store. She smiled to herself when an old-fashioned bell tingled overhead as she opened the door. Shoving a hand into her pockets, she discovered a ten dollar note - which would give her enough to buy _The Washington Times _and _The Washington Post_. As she strolled through the small aisle that stocked everything from toothbrushes, to canned beans - a small, pink, inoffensive package caught her eye.

She had missed her period the month before, and this month's was still to come.

_You're just stressed, _she coaxed herself. _That's all. It's happened once before…once...and that was when you got beaten up in South America and got put on strong medication._

_But you weren't sleeping with anyone then._

_Enough of the inner monologue! _

She collected the two papers from the news rack, and went to the counter.

An elderly man smiled kindly at her from behind the cashier.

"Good morning, ma'am."

Brennan reciprocated his good nature. "Morning."

"Sure is early for you to be up and about," he observed, glancing outside towards the dawning day.

"No earlier than you, Sir," she replied, grin in tact.

The older man chuckled. "I've been doing this every day for the past forty years. What's one early morning, ey?"

"Touche." Brennan looked at the small counter, which housed chewing gum, candy and even the odd cigarette lighter. Hardly thinking, she added a small hand-packaged bag of lollies to the collection.

"A bit early for candy, isn't it?" The man sounded amused.

"I have a feeling I might be in the need for them later today," she explained with a small grimace.

"Tough job?"

"Well…" Brennan rolled her shoulders. "I suppose you could say that."

The man punched the prices into a hand calculator, and retrieved the change from an old-fashioned register.

Putting he items into a plastic bag, he handed over her purchases. "Now you have a good day…Ms…?"

Brennan smiled and extended a hand. "Brennan. Temperance Brennan."

The man clasped her slender hand, and shook it. "Pleasure to meet you Ms Brennan - Oliver Bradshaw."

Brennan released the grip. "The pleasure was all mine, Mr Bradshaw. Thanks." With that, she departed the little general store with a grin bigger than a dinner plate.

She had walked but fifty metres, when the sight of an approaching figure made her want to smile and frown all at once.

"Hey!" She called out to her partner, who strode towards her in his beige detective's coat. "What are you doing out here?"

She really _loved_ that coat.

But Booth didn't smile.

"What's wrong?" She asked when they reached each other. "Did you get my note?"

He kissed her. "I did." Again, he brought his face to hers.

She brought him to arm's length. "I…told you I was going to be back soon-"

"Please," he interrupted her, a strange desperation in his eyes. "Please don't forget, for one moment, that there's a murderer on the loose that won't stop at hurting you to get to me."

Brennan remembered the messaging. "I won't," she whispered.

As he enveloped her in his arms in a tight embrace, she looked over his shoulder worriedly.

She was going to have to tell him about it.

Chasing away the thought, instead, aloud she said, "We should be get back."

Booth parted the hug, but didn't let go of her hand the whole way home.

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

"So, what did you and Studly get up to last night?" Angela probed with a lilt of cheek, when they caught up later that day.

Brennan sighed and stared up at the ceiling of he friend's office, imagining a non-existent sky as she lay on the couch.

"Bren?" Angela put down her tablet and walked over.

Turning her head, the anthropologist smiled - but the expression was lifeless. "We didn't really get up to that much," she answered eventually.

Her friend furrowed a brow at this. "Oh?"

Brennan pressed her back into the padding of the couch. "I was sick last night; food poisoning, I believe. I didn't sleep. I went for a walk really early this morning - otherwise, nothing much happened."

"You were sick," Angela relayed. "And you didn't…sleep last night?"

Brennan shrugged. "Yeah. So - what of it?"

"Sweetie, don't you think you should go and see a doctor or something?" Angela placed a hand on her womb.

Something flickered across her friend's face, and she sat up. "Angela, I could count hundreds of nights when I haven't slept - I'm not an insomniac, but it's just always happened."

"When?"

Brennan frowned. "What do you mean, _'when'_?"

"Name a time when you haven't slept through night."

Giving her friend an incredulous expression, she answered dryly with, "The Lauren Eames case. I didn't sleep for about three nights straight."

"And then before that?"

Brennan frowned. "I…don't know. When I first arrived in Maluku - when I began to doubt going there in the first place. The nights I missed Booth. I-"

A light rap on Angela's door disturbed her reply.

It was Vincent.

"Forgive me," he apologised sincerely. "Cam is about to have me drawn and quartered if you and I didn't get to work soon."

"I understand," Brennan told him, "and I will be there in a moment, okay?" Her intern bobbed his head in understanding, and disappeared - she turned back to Angela. "Your point in all of this being?"

"Sweetie, I want you to answer me in all honesty…"

"I always do."

"Okay. Have you been feeling queazy - I mean, other than being ill last night?"

Brennan folded her arms across her chest. "It's stress, Angela. I know me." She began to walk out. "It's just stress."

Angela grasped her arm, and yanked her to a halt. Her friend winced at the surprisingly tight grip, but that didn't stop her from towing her to her desk, and removing a box from her handbag.

"Bren - this is one of those times when I know something about you, that you just haven't admitted to yourself yet." She pressed the pregnancy test into Brennan's hand. "Take the test, Sweetie."

"But I'm not-"

"Then what have you go to lose? If anything…" Angela's face shifted into an unfathomable expression, a she stared down at her growing womb. "You'll gain something." She looked back up at her.

Brennan felt strangely numb. "I…"

"Take the test."

Brennan exhaled an unsteady breath that she hadn't even noticed she was holding.

_Take the test._

The anthropologist caught her friend in an eye-lock. "Will you be with me…when I…?" She drifted of quietly, rattling the box.

Angela smiled softly. "Of course."

"Dr Brennan!" Cam's voice boomed from the platform.

"When we stop for morning break," Brennan compromised, voice still little.

Her friend nodded, and grasped her forearm supportively.

Brennan exhaled heavily, and broke away from her so she could join their boss.

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

"So, the victim was in Witness Protection?" Booth reiterated to Caroline, scanning the files that the prosecutor had just handed him.

Her eyebrows narrowed. "That's not all, Cher - he was in the program because he was supposed to testify against a drug dealer. Infamous drug dealer Raul Ortiz, who's-"

"Now imprisoned," Booth finished for her thoughtfully, recalling viewing the story on the news a couple of days in a row. Back then, he had thought nothing of it.

"Yes. You going to call your girlfriend about this?"

Booth was already pulling out his phone, and didn't respond to Caroline's probing eye when he didn't contradict her for naming Brennan his 'girlfriend' - as he so often used to do.

The prosecutor watched the agent, and mirrored his surprise when he hung up not long after he had made the call.

"What's wrong Cher?" she asked.

Booth frowned. "Bones…didn't answer; it went straight to her message bank."

"Maybe she's taking another call," Caroline reasoned. "Or her cell's out of battery - I don't know. It's no big deal; call her again in a minny."

"A what?"

"A _minute_. Look, I gotta go." She departed.

Booth dialled Brennan again.

No answer.

He made his way towards the lifts.

**.**

**-~B&B~-**

**.**

_Inhale. Exhale._

Brennan had been repeating the process ever since Angela had sat in the power room, and she had entered the small bathroom alone.

"Are you okay, Sweetie?" Angela called from the next room, knocking on the door that separated them.

Brennan stared at the box. What was so scary about it anyway? It was just a test._ It could be negative._

_It could be positive._

Brennan sat on the lid of the toilet seat.

"Sweetie?" Came her best friend's concerned voice again.

"I'm fine, Ange. I'm just waiting for the result," she replied with more confidence than she felt.

_Lie._

She looked at the box once more, and then at her handbag. Shoving the box to the bottom, and covering it with her wallet and a few other bits and pieces, she moved to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly. Tearing a piece of paper towel from the dispenser, she paused mid-way as she dried her them. She tore more hand towel. Scrunched it. Tossed it in the bin.

It wasn't as if anyone was going to look in the waste basket, but just incase they did - it looked full enough.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she opened the door.

"How did it go?" Angela immediately inquired. "Are you…?"

Brennan hesitated for a moment, debating on whether or not to tell the truth. "It was negative," she heard herself say.

"Oh…Sweetie. I'm so sorry."

Brennan frowned. "Why are you sorry?"

Angela took her hand. "Because I'm sympathising with you - having a baby is a wonderful thing, and you and Booth-"

"Are not. Okay?" Brennan pulled away, heart thumping loudly in her chest, ears ringing. "We're not - and I'm fine about it."

Though she was unconvinced, Angela let it go, and followed her friend back to her office.

They were halted by Booth right before they reached the door.

"Why didn't you answer?" He demanded immediately, eyes panicky.

"And that's my cue to leave." Angela offered them a tight smile and walked slowly away, so she was still in ear shot.

"Booth," Brennan sighed. "You can't freak out every time I miss a phone call. That's not rational." She entered her room, and sat down at the desk. "Now, what's wrong?"

Feeling chided, and belittled, Booth fidgeted irritably. "What's wrong, is that I need you to take this seriously-"

"And I do!" She replied sharply, patience wearing thin. "Everyday. I get that you have the tendency to _overreac_t, but if something _was_ wrong, you know I'd tell you - or find a way to." Guilt burned in her stomach. She flickered her eyes towards the screen of her laptop in attempt to shield the expression that occupied her face. "I just…need you to have a little more faith in me."

"I do-"

"No," she interrupted, speaking through her teeth. "You don't - and quite frankly, it's a little overbearing."

"Bones, until Broadsky's caught, I won't stop with the overbearingness." He perched himself on the edge of her desk. "Hell, we've been over this a hundred times. You're just going to have to live with it."

Brennan stood in a fluster. "And how different would this be if we weren't in a relationship? Would you be bending over backwards to save my arse if Hannah was still around?"

Booth cringed at her reply. "Is Hannah seriously going to resurrect herself every time we try to have a serious discussion?"

"Discussion?" Brennan scoffed. "It's an _argument_, Booth. We are _arguing_."

"Pointlesslessly! And I would look out for you, regardless of whether we were together or not. But we are."

"And don't I know it!"

Her partner took the bullet with force. "What's that's supposed to mean?"

Brennan folded her arms across her chest. "I don't know - what do you think it means?"

Booth was speechless. "I'll see you later," he finally managed. "I have work to do."

Brennan relaxed, and her arms dropped. "If you had work to do, then why were you here?"

"Because I thought you could help," he answered ruefully, making his way out.

"I want to stay on my own tonight," Brennan called to him before he could disappear entirely.

He froze. "No, that's not an opt-"

"It isn't up to you," she replied quietly, tone disconcerted. "I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. If it makes, you feel any better, I'll stay away from the windows. I'll close all the blinds."

He watched her for a moment, facial expression colouring with a hundred separate emotions - and then and then he stormed away.

Supporting her weight against the desk, she stared at the floor, and her hand subconsciously drifted to rest on her lower abdomen.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

_What had she just done?_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Trouble in paradise? <em>**

**_Is Brennan pregnant?_**

**_I don't know about you guys, but I liked that chapter - even though it was super tense - but I'm not a telepath as well as a writer... so, y_****_ou know where the box is ! (They've made it so huge now, and so easy to use, so no excuses!) :P_**

**_Love you all lots (especially to those who have already reviewed and favourites - I write this story for you guys, and you know it!)_**

**_xG_**


	31. Part II: 4:47

**I'm so sorry guys, for my massive absence. I needed some me time. RL is just being mean now - roller coasters and all….**

**Anyways, big hugs to all those who have stuck around! I can't thank you enough x This is HUGE chapter, but you guys deserve it! :)**

_**Fasten your seat belts for this one.**_

_**Don't say I didn't warn you…**_

* * *

><p><strong>31. 4:47<strong>

* * *

><p>Brennan couldn't remember a time in the past couple of months where she had made the decision to stay on her own. In fact, she was sure, so far, that she hadn't.<p>

As she entered her apartment that night, the mustiness that hung in her nostrils was an immediate damper, but once she had turned the heaters on, and lit a couple of scented candles, the unwanted aroma disappeared, and the place began to feel more like home again. She turned her television on to the news, but didn't watch it. Instead, she busied herself with making dinner; a simple garden salad scattered with feta cheese and pecan nuts. Once she had drizzled dressing over the top, she collected cutlery, and brought the overly large bowel with her to the couch.

As she shovelled in one mouthful of green after the other, she felt extremely dismal. The news - which was merely a man and a woman parading an overly expressive smile - had nothing to report of but tiresome politics and grim notifications of shootings that had occurred in the dodgy ends of town.

As the ads flashed, she went to mute the sound with her remote, but hesitated when a bright beach flittered on the screen, accompanied by light music, and a fantastic hotel.

_Fiji,_ it read.

_Low airfares_, it read.

Something stirred in Brennan. The cost didn't matter. The destination did.

_What - are you kidding? _She chided herself. _You just had a fight._

The advertisement was over.

And so was the daydream.

Slumping back into the couch, she withdrew her probing phone from her jean pocket, and felt a little dejected when there was nothing there for her. Switching her television over to Pay TV, she scanned the channels, and settled on show that screened a beautiful actress that spoke to ghosts. Brennan went to her sideboard and retrieved a plain notebook and grey lead that she generally only used to scribble phone numbers in. Today, however, it was a sketchbook.

Between paying attention to the television every so often, she would shade areas of the face she drew. Having an artist for a friend had it advantages; though she wasn't a brilliant miracle worker at creating a masterpiece like Angela could, Brennan still had they ability to form the basis of a face and give it tone and detail. As her pencil swept across the small page, a face formed before her eyes, before she even knew whom she'd been drawing.

Truthfully, Booth had been on her mind ever since they had parted, and as the hours drew on, she regretted her decision even more.

The sound of a ringtone made Brennan start, before she realised that it was the woman on the show calling her husband.

_He's only a phone-call away,_ she reminded herself.

As she stared at the strong resemblance of his face beneath her fingers, she felt her eyes sting with hot tears.

_You're ruining it_, she thought madly. _Let go of your...imperviousness. S__top trying to be your own hero. _

_You're not alone anymore._

She remembered the pregnancy test.

Guilt flooded through her veins. She eyed her phone.

_You're tearing this apart all on your own; your secrets are going to be the end of you. Of the _both_ of you._

Hitting the first number on speed dial, Brennan waited anxiously for the person on the other end of the line to answer. After five rings, she stood and took her car keys from her handbag. He answered on the sixth, just as she opened her front door.

"I was worried about you," murmured Booth softly from the other side of the arch.

After a moment of painful silence, Brennan stepped forward, and lightly wrapped her arms around his torso. "God, I'm sorry," she whispered into his neck.

He was still.

She took his hand, and led him inside. Closing the door behind her, she resumed her embrace. Her partner felt rigid within her arms. Icicles piercing her heart, she stood back to observe him.

"What's the matter?" she asked quietly.

He looked at his feet, and laughed dryly. "What's the matter," he repeated. "What's the matter…? I'll tell you what is." Two brown eyes shot up and caught hers. "What's the matter, is that there is a trained, smart, remorseless man on the loose that would stop at nothing to kill you, because to him, you would just be collateral damage-"

"Booth-"

"No, listen to me, Bones. Please, for once, without interrupting me."

She checked herself.

Booth folded his arms. "What's changed?"

His partner shifted on her feet. "Nothing. _Nothing_ has changed."

"Bones - I've been your partner for the better half of nearly seven years. I love you. I know that something's wrong." He stepped forward. "Are you…scared? I mean, are you worried that Br-"

Brennan turned away - collecting her response, and chasing away the panic for her kept secrets, she then faced him with new determination. "What happened to _us_? In between all of this crap going on in _our _lives? What about _you_ and _me_?"

"What do you mean 'us'?" His arms dropped to his sides and swung. "There is no _'us'_. You're so happy being on your own-"

Brennan's hearted jumped into her throat. "But I'm not-"

Booth took a step back.

"...Happy on my own." She took a deep, necessary breath. "I'm not."

"Then you've got to stop choosing when you want to be with me, and when you don't. You should want to be with me all the time; that's what happens, when two people love each other; when two people love each other so much, that they can't live without one another-"

"And I can't live without you," Brennan finished for him, stepping forward. "I do really love you so much, Booth. I know you think I don't, but I do." Hot tears collected in her eyes before she could will them away. "I know that I not r-right…for y-"

Booth silenced her with a kiss. "But you're absolutely right. And perfect. For me." When she turned her head, he redirected it to face him with his index finger. "It's just that, I know that there's something going on. I don't want you to battle it alone."

Brennan collapsed into his chest. _Just tell him,_ the little voice encroached. _What are you so afraid of?_

"Booth, have…" she began, "I'm-" she broke off into a yawn.

"Exhausted," Booth murmured. "It can wait 'til tomorrow."

Submitting, she allowed herself to be led to the bedroom.

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

Brennan left her apartment at four-forty-seven in the morning.

Again - though shared a bed with Booth - she had managed to get away without him waking. Within another quarter of an hour, she had arrived at the lab. She knew that the Booth would be upset - one again - but she couldn't afford to be continuously halted by that. Sometimes, in achieving the greater good, she knew that she had to take blows.

Bone storage felt colder than usual. Chills ruptured down her spine as she ventured down the staircase and left the echo of her footsteps behind her. The box of Phoebe's bones lay on the table that an intern had left them on. Collecting it up in her arms, she made for the entrance again. The moment she stepped foot on the metal staircase, something far back in the basement storage clattered loudly. Slipping on her feet in fright, Brennan fell to the ground with a gasp, but managed to break her fall with the plastic tub. Deciding against investigating what exactly had happened down the corridors, Brennan fought her curiosity with fear, and continued up the stairway far more quickly than she had descended it.

When Phoebe's remains we lain out in the Bone room, Brennan levelled herself with the table and stared the skull down. Recalling all she knew about the victim, Brennan compiled everything: she was a single mother, a jockey and she had been sick with Hypophosphatasia. Filling the gaps in between with what else she knew, the simplest answer finally came.

Choking - if physically inflicted with an object _(such as rope)_ - would show up in the bones. However, something soft - that had merely cut of her air supply - would not have. In this case scenario, the bones couldn't tell her anything.

She had been looking for an answer that wasn't there.

It was a _maybe._

And this was the only logical explanation.

"Who choked you?" Brennan whispered aloud, putting all of her weight on her elbows. "What…did you do…that got you killed?" She cradled the skull in her hands.

Footsteps thundered to the doorway. "Bones!"

Brennan looked up from the gurney with a start. "Oh," she gasped.

"_Oh?_" Booth's eyes were wild - his body taut. "Do you have any idea what you put me through? You've _got_ to stop doing this!"

Brennan took a deep breath. "Booth…I'm so sorry," she apologised sincerely. "I couldn't sleep…I just can't…I feel like an insomniac at the moment." She stared down at her feet.

He crossed the distance between them and embraced her tightly. "I am, quite honestly, furious with you…but I'm just glad that you're…"

"I know," she whispered into his shoulder. "Don't worry...Broadsky hasn't touched me." A guilty feeling sank in the pit of her stomach, reawakening her nausea. Swallowing hard, she pressed her face into his chest harder. Gripping his back tightly, she inhaled in his comforting scent.

"Bones?" he pressed quietly, at her shift in attitude. "You okay?"

"I will be," she promised, although it almost felt like speaking the words aloud was her way of convincing herself.

Booth broke the embrace, and stared at the bones on the illuminated surface. "So who's this?"

Brennan walked to the skull. "It's Phoebe." Before her partner could comment, she gave such a great sigh of defeat, that the worry returned to his face. "I want to get the help from Montreal," she told him, ultimately.

Booth nodded empathetically. "Okay."

Her shoulders dropped. "I'm just…_exhausted_. I mean, Cam was right; I can't do it."

"You can do it, Bones" he disagreed, "but it's just a lot for one person - it's just a matter of getting someone to help out. It doesn't make you any less smarter, or incompetent; it means that you're strong enough to know when you can't do something all on your own, and actually do something about it."

"But I'm not alone," she corrected him. "I have you."

He smiled tenderly. "And I, you. That's never going to change, okay?"

She moved back towards him, and he welcomed her with open arms.

"Can we take a break," she asked, "when all of this is over? Just you and I?"

"What, like a vacation?"

Her head bobbed in agreement. "It would be our first holiday together."

He returned her enthusiasm with a jovial smile. "Where to? The East Coast-"

"No." Her lips hinted of a telling smile.

"The desert?"

She laced her arms around his waist. "I was thinking more along the lines of overseas…"

"Hawaii?"

She shook her head. "No - and that's still in America," she laughed.

"Tell me."

"Fiji."

"Fiji?"

She grinned widely, nodding her head. "I mean, if you don't want to spend a lot on an overseas holiday, Fiji is a slightly more suitable solution."

"Fiji sounds great." Though Booth kissed the top of her head, his voice didn't convince her.

She eyed him skeptically. "Really? 'Cause I'll book - if you want to…"

He kissed her on the mouth this time, hungrily tugging at her lips. "I don't care about the _where," _he breathed in her ear, "just so long as I'm with _you_."

"_Aww_." She kissed beneath his ear. All at once, her nausea returned in a roll. Breaking away from him rush, she gripped the table for support to steady her swaying body.

"Bones?" Booth was immediately at her side, hand on her back.

"I'm fine," she coughed. "I just have a funny tummy; I haven't eaten, and it's my stomach's way of getting back at me for it."

"I'm not convinced."

"Well, you don't need to be, because it's nothing, and it'll be gone in a moment." She straightened. "Can we go to my office?"

"Sure." He held her arm, wary of letting go.

When they had reached their destination, Brennan downed a mouthful of water, and took a seat at her desk. Unconsciously, her eyes travelled to the draw beneath the surface, and settled there. _No_, she rebelled internally_._

"Come here, baby." Booth patted to a place beside him on her couch.

She tore her eyes away from what spearheaded her thoughts, and joined her partner. Snuggling up to his side, Brennan settled her suddenly panicked heart with deep, careful breaths. Entreated to the comfort of his hand stroking the length of her torso, she drifted into a fitful sleep - but it was a slumber, nonetheless.

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

_Hot._

Hot _was the sun as it kissed her back, but made her blood cells sizzle and pop beneath the surface of her skin. Hot was the grainy sand that seeped through toes…it was the flush of her heated blood as it coursed through her veins, begging for a respite. A respite that could be delivered by a dip in the lukewarm water, that stretched out meters from her reach. _

_Rolling over so she lay on her belly, a lazy smile crossed her lips as her hand fell across the muscled form of her partner's stomach. _

_"Booth," she murmured, looking up at him. When he didn't stir from his slumber, she tried again. "Booth?" _

_No response. She sat up. Placed her hands on his shoulders, and flinched the moment she did._

_His flesh was stone cold. _

_"Booth?" she cried worriedly, shaking him. "Wake up! Please!"_

_"I told you what would happen if you didn't stop," a dark voice whispered on the wind. "But you didn't listen."_

_She whirled to face the intruder. "What have you done to him?"_

_Broadsky stared at her with a cold, hard eye. "I tried to reason with you."_

_Brennan felt as though she couldn't breathe. Above, the sky darkened, and all at once dark droplets of rain splattered against her hot skin, hissing as they met the smooth surface. She turned back to her partner, and took him in her arms. _

_"Booth! God, please, no!"_

_"I tried to reason with you…" Broadsky's voice, along with his being, drifted away._

_Alone on the beach, she cried out her lover's name in a vain attempt to waken his lifeless body._

_"Bones…" His voice called distantly._

"Bones!" Louder. Real.

She fell from the world of dreamland, and awoke with a gasp. Panting, Brennan sat up in haze of disorientation.

"Baby." Booth kissed her clammy forehead. "It's okay."

"No." She stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. "It's not." She leant into his chest. "It's not."

Brennan's phone buzzed at that moment, and when she made no movement to answer it, Booth picked it up instead.

"It's a text from _'Blocked_'," he informed her.

The phone's owner stood and extended a hand, taking the device from him. Unlocking her phone, she opened the message.

_I TOLD YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU DIDN'T STOP._

Starting backwards with a choke, Brennan threw the phone away. "It's Broadsky," she betrayed, forgetting her vows to remain silent. "It-it's been him the entire time." She held her partner's gaze with wild fear, as the chips fell into place, and her comprehension became entire.

Booth's eyes darkened with something dangerous, and unfathomable. "What do you mean _'it's Broadsky'_?"

She didn't reply, but the distress in her eyes answered what her words did not. He picked up her phone, and read the message.

Brennan watched as his mouth twisted into a nasty scowl - though, she knew it wasn't meant for her.

"How long have you been receiving these messages?" He snapped. When he again, received no response, then came the order, "Tell me!".

"A couple of days after we started working on the case," she uttered in a trembling voice.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Because I didn't want you to worry."

"_Worry?_ Bones, he could kill you! Should I not be worrying about that?" He tossed the phone to the couch, and he ran his clawed fingers through his hair.

"I get that you care about me, Booth, but if Broadsky knew that you knew about them, he'd make it his game to wreck up more havoc!" She paused, and took a tentative step closer, her attitude blunted. "A-are you…are you angry because I tried to protect you?"

"No, Temperance, I'm angry because I love you!"

Brennan covered her face with her hands, and shook her head. "Don't you see? That's the problem!" She dropped them.

He recoiled as if she had slapped him.

"No, Booth," she immediately amended. "That's not what I meant…"

He stared at her with full eyes, crushed. "It's not what you m-meant-"

"No, it isn't," she cut him off firmly. "I meant that our love for each other is what's putting us in danger - but it doesn't mean that I'm going to stop loving you, okay?"

"I still don't understand why you didn't tell-" The flare of anger was rising again.

"Because I think that I might be pregnant!"

Booth froze in shock, and his face became an enigmatic mask. No word passed his lips.

She exhaled unevenly. "…And, if you knew about the text messages, and you knew about this…_possibility_… then Broadsky would know too, and he would stop at nothing to hurt me, so he could get to you."

Booth's shoulders rose and slackened as he heaved. "You're…you're pregnant?"

"No," she sighed, a little too quickly. "Look, I don't know. But it's very possible." She placed both hands on the side of his feverish face. "I…couldn't tell you, because somehow it seems that everything you know, becomes Broadsky's immediate knowledge too. You would be even more protective over me - if I am, in fact pregnant, and you knew I was pregnant - and that would only stir him up even more. So, I thought I was making a logical decision."

"So you risked your life...and possibly our... _child's_...for a maybe?"

"No, Booth. There was no risk. There is now, because you _know_-"

"What has he been saying, in the text messages?" Booth's change of subject was as abrupt and changeful as an unpredictable wind, but Brennan rode along with it.

"He was telling me to back off," she answered calmly. "That's all."

"Was he threatening you? Like that text message you just received?"

She paused, before replying quietly, "Yes."

Booth collected her wrists in his hands, and held them to his heart. "I need to go to the office, okay? I need my people to figure this out. Your people are already here, but I don't want you doing anything on the case just now. Do you understand?"

She shook her head. "I'm coming with you."

"No, Bones. I do not want you working this case - not now. It's too dangerous."

"It isn't up to you-"

"I won't have it."

"Booth-"

He silenced her with a passionate kiss, but she broke it off.

"I can't keep you safe if you're a moving target, and you provoke Broadsky by being involved," he reasoned fiercely.

"I don't need you to keep me safe. I can take care of myself," she answered back indignantly.

"No, you can't. Not when it comes to this. Nothing is what it seems." Taking her phone, he made for the door. "I love you."

"You can't smooth this over, with claims of love-" She followed him out. "Booth!"

He passed through the front door.

Stomping her foot, she crossed her arms and huffed.

Too late.

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

Booth's heart was in his throat as he made for the parking lot. Unlocking his car, he entered, and sat speechlessly for a few moments.

_Pregnant?_

His Bones. Pregnant. With his child.

_Their child._

But it was only a possibility. She wasn't sure.

Somehow, though, he knew that she was. Though she claimed it all to be from the benefactors of stress; she hadn't been eating properly, she wasn't sleeping, she had dizzy spells, and for all he knew, she was probably suffering from rolls of nausea.

_She must be,_ he thought, _because it makes sense for her not to tell me about the text messages if she really did think she was pregnant. Even though I could wring her neck for keeping it from me, she was just doing what she thought was right._

A baby.

He turned the key in the ignition, and backed out of his park.

Just at the thought of them, starting a family together, after all they had been through - made his heart flutter like a teenager experiencing a kind of love for the first time.

Driving out past the Jeffersonian's entry gates, Booth made for the intersection. Sitting at a red light, his thoughts turned to Broadsky with a burning fire of hate boiling in his stomach. The man was going to pay - he was corrupt, and his perception of justice was tainted, but Booth vowed not to show him any sympathy.

His light flashed green, and he put pressure on the accelerator.

Out of the corner of his eye, a glimmer of a black vehicle blinded his sight.

By the time he reflexed to brake, it was too late.

Everything faded into nothing.

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

"Morning sweetie," Angela greeted brightly upon entering Brennan's office, grin as big as a dinner plate.

"It has been for hours now," Brennan replied absently, doodling roots on the ragged flower she had just drawn.

"What's up?" Her friend perched herself as best she could on the arm of Brennan's couch, hand massaging her womb. "Was that Booth I just saw leaving before?"

"Who else?" Brennan shrugged tiredly, and covered her face with her hands. "I told him something that I don't think I should have, Ange, and now I really think…I just…"

Both women were silent.

"Maybe if you told me what it was, I might be able to help you," Angela suggested patiently.

Brennan took a deep breath. "I told Booth that I thought I was pregnant."

"You…thought…" Angela frowned. "Wait, wait…I thought that you said that the test came back negative?"

Brennan kept a level stare. "I never took the test, Ange."

Angela's face pinched with pain, and her shoulders drooped. "You lied to me," she resigned.

"I'm sorry."

"_Why?_ Why didn't you?"

The anthropologist stood. "I don't know."

"Don't give me that crap, Brennan. I'm your best friend. You know why. Tell me why." Angela came forward. "You owe me that."

"I don't owe you anything, Angela. I haven't taken anything from you."

"Hell, Brennan. When friends lie to each other, they deserve a bit more than a meek apology!"

Brennan folded her arms and huffed. "Well, what do you want me to tell you?"

"I want you to tell me why you faked a pregnancy test!"

"I…"

"Why, Bren?"

"I was scared!"

Angela softened. "Why were you…scared?"

"Because I don't know what I want! I know that I love Booth, and that I want to be with him more than anything in the world, but I also know that I'm sick of my job, and that all I want to do is buy a private island in the Pacific, and live the rest of my days out there - away from the world. Away from crime, and depression, and sadness, and bad memories. I know that a baby would be the most amazing thing in my life, but it would also ground me. And I…I've never allowed myself to be grounded like that. I want _so_ much, Ange…and…I'm just afraid that Booth doesn't want the same things."

Though it was a lot to process, Angela gave her a reply. "Have you talked to Booth about all of this?" She asked.

Brennan shook her head. "Ange, I only just told him about the pregnancy and the text-messaging. Telling him about my wishes for the future wasn't my top priority-"

Cam entered. "What text messages?"

Angela seconded their boss' question.

Brennan realised her slip and explained what had happened since the beginning of the case, and then told them how Booth had just left with her phone to take to the FBI. She finished by telling them about that morning - and didn't miss the detail in Limbo.

Though both women were upset with her, all we interrupted when Brennan's computer shrilled with an email alert. Frowning, its owner swivelled the screen around so her two colleagues could read it.

_It was a disposable email account, and it's ID read: __fight2theend._

"Open it," Angela instructed.

Brennan complied.

_I TRIED TO REASON WITH YOU._

All three women met each other's gaze with the same fear.

"Guys!" Hodgins called out from the platform. "You better come here!"

They ran. Angela waddled.

"What is it?" Cam barked roughly, nails visibly digging into her palms.

"The traces of rubber I found at the crime scene, are from car tires."

"So?" Brennan pressed impatiently as she picked up a pencil, and bent it nervously in her fingers.

"They don't just belong to a vehicle. They belong to this -" He pulled up an image of a black ute.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Angela asked shortly, as he paled.

Hodgins watched them all with a fearful. "This truck pulled out of the Jeffersonian parking lot not even a moment after Booth did. I saw it, and so I ran in here, to make sure. I mean i-it's got the same number plates, t-the s-same-"

The room suddenly felt very cold.

Brennan snapped her pencil. "I have to go to him," she barked in voice that had lost all control, "he was going to his office-"

At that moment, the security alarms buzzed, and a woman thundered towards them. "Dr Brennan…!" She yelled.

They all turned. Upon seeing the agent's mortified face, Brennan's entire body turned to ice. Colder than the room.

"It's Agent Booth…" Agent Genevieve Shaw informed her in a rush, tone unsteady.

The pencil Brennan held slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a clatter. "Genny?" she heard herself ask, without volume or emotion.

"He's been in an accident," the young agent almost whispered.

_Booth. Accident. Broadsky._

She couldn't breathe. She could hear Booth's assisting agent saying something to Hodgins, but her words blurred into a single monotone - low, and incomprehensible. Cam joined the discussion, merging in with the panicked murmurs.

_Booth._

_Accident._

Her head spun, and as the two words continued to circulate like a broken record. A thick curtain of blackness crept from the shadows, sucking her in like a powerful vortex; drawing all of her strength. Submitting to its infection, she slipped over the edge with no threshold to grip, and fell into darkness.

* * *

><p><em>Booth!<em>

_Bones!_

_….Baby?_

_I'm sorry - that one's a bit of a killer._

**You know where that button is - don't make me beg ;)**

_(PS - Thank you to all who have reviewed/favourited/alerted this story - especially recently - it means the world to me to know you guys care! XD )_


	32. Part II: It's Ground Zero

**_Sorry to keep you waiting with a cliffy darlings :S_**

**_x G_**

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><p><strong>32. It's Ground Zero<strong>

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><p><em>"How long has she been out for?"<em>

_"Nearly twenty minutes."_

_"Cam's gone to the crime scene."_

_"How many casualties?"_

_"We don't know yet."_

_"Honey, I'm worried - if that explosion didn't wake her up, then she needs to go to the hospital-"_

_"Her hand moved…"_

Brennan registered the anxious words of her friends, although she couldn't determine which voice belonged to whom - caught halfway between a groggy kind of slumber, a blackness and reality, she wasn't certain whether she was in a dream or not.

"She's coming to." _Wendell?_

Her eyes dragged open, and she stared into a blinding light. "What happened…?" she slurred, trying to sit up.

"Woah, take it easy," Hodgins cautioned, watching her with great concern. "You hit your head pretty hard."

"What happened?" she repeated, with as much firmness as she could manage.

Wendell, Hodgins and Angela all exchanged glances.

"Genny came to the lab, and told you that Booth had been in a car accident," Wendell reminded her gently. "The shock of it all made you lose consciousness."

The memories overcame her in a great wave. "Booth," she choked, eyes full. "Booth! Is he…?"

Angela put an arm tightly around her. "Sweetie…they have him at the hospital-"

Brennan hardly processed her words. "I have to go to him," she said suddenly, forcing her wayward body onto trembling feet.

"Bren, maybe you should-" Angela's pleas were lost, as Brennan stumbled towards the door. "You're not driving," she ordered lowly, catching up with her, and grasping her arm.

"No," Brennan said in a detached tone. "You are."

"I am." Hodgins put in quickly.

Brennan was already running.

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

Hodgins drove carefully - so not as to break the speed limit - but the muscles in his arms bulged from the strength exerted from his tense shoulders. His fingers - which gripped the steering wheel tightly - where almost white. When he made the turn to take a detour away from the main intersection, Brennan yelled for him to brake; her eyes glued to a formation of black smoke that clouded the blue sky.

"What is it?" she demanded.

Neither Hodgins or Angela answered.

"What is all that smoke?" Brennan barely whispered.

"Ground Zero," Hodgins finally responded.

Brennan swallowed hard. "Go. Now."

Angela exhaled nervously. "Bren, I'm not sure if we should-"

"Now!"

Hodgins exchanged a nervous glance with his wife, and did a U-turn.

None of them were ready for what they pulled up to.

Two dozen cars scattered the intersection, many charred, overturned, and with flames licking up what they could. Small maple trees on the nature strips were coloured black. Glass covered a hundred square meters. Debris. Metal.

Brennan flung the door open and staggered to the centre of the chaos.

"Bren!" Angela called out, but it was her husband who reached Brennan first and encased her in his arms.

"Tempe, c'mon." He attempted to pull her back to the car. "C'mon."

Brennan heaved, close to tears. "He…you said_ they_ _have_ him at the hospital…not that he…_is_…there…so he…isn't al-" She cut off, spying something a further away from where the first vehicle had exploded.

Booth's SUV lay on its side, yards away. From where she was, it appeared to be just as all the other cars were.

Tearing herself from Jack's arms, she ran towards it.

It had been touched by the fire.

Brennan felt her knees buckle beneath her. "No!" She shook her head in denial, lowering towards the ground. "No…no…no…"

Hodgins had her again before she fully reached the bitumen. "Tempe -"

"Not Booth," she mumbled incoherently, repeatedly. "Not Booth. No him. No. Anyone but him."

Hodgins gripped underneath her arms and lifted her up from the ground.

"No!" Brennan cried - though her friends weren't sure whether she meant it for her partner, or because she didn't want to leave the crash site.

But then she became stricken with a different agony. Trembling, Brennan cried out and doubled over, clutching her abdomen.

Angela witnessed the transformation in terror. "Get her in the car, now!" She yelled to her husband. "Get her…get her…" Scooping her up so she was in his arms, Hodgins rushed her to the back seat of the car, where Angela then held her. "The hospital" - was all his wife could manage.

"Ange," Brennan whimpered. "Ange it hurts."

"Shh, it's okay Sweetie, everything's okay," her friend whispered tearfully, stroking her hair. "We're nearly there. Just close your eyes. We'll be there soon. It's okay."

Brennan squeezed her eyes closed, and breathed deeply.

"You're gonna be fine," Angela murmured thickly. "All three of you."

_Please,_ Brennan pleaded silently - and it wasn't to the universe.

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

The anthropologist woke with a start, a hand protectively gripping her womb.

"Hey, Sweetie," Angela whispered, restraining her friend with a cool hand. "Lay back. You're safe."

Brennan turned her head to face her friend. "Am I…? Did I lose-?"

"The baby's fine," she replied gently, then paused. "You were lucky."

"Baby," Brennan murmured, and stared straight ahead, leaning into the pillows.

Everything came back to her at once. "Booth!" She gasped suddenly.

The restraining hand tightened. "You need to stay where you are," Angela told her. "Booth is in recovery. They have him under a sedative; we tried to tell you, but you were hysterical. I'm sorry."

Brennan closed her eyes, and exhaled, allowing the information to sink in. "You shouldn't be the one apologising, Angela," she said eventually. Her eyes flickered open, and caught her friend's stare.

Angela shook her head. "You don't have to go there, Bren. It's okay."

"But it isn't," Brennan responded firmly. "Whenever I do something…or say something…or something happens to me, someone else always ends up paying for it. And it's you, almost every time. I always hurt you, Ange, and I never apologise for it."

Angela's hand relaxed. "Don't blame yourself for things you can't control."

Brennan stared at her hands. "I do; I _do_ blame me - because I control them," she disagreed. "Every decision I make - every_ bad _decision - and every secret…? It's me. All me. And you stand by me."

Angela wiped her eyes with a free hand.

"Come here," Brennan begged. "I feel like I can't sit up."

Her friend leant over, and the two managed an embrace the best they could between Angela's the baby bump.

"I know it doesn't seem like it - what, with everything that goes on," she continued, "but I…owe you so much…I can't measure it with words, or logical explanations…but some crazy friend of mine once told me, that '_a friend is someone who reaches for your hand, but touches your heart'_. You have mine, Ange. Unconditionally."

Again, Angela wiped her eyes. "Stop, you're making my hormones go on overdrive."

"You look exhausted," said Brennan, emitting her own condition. "You should go home."

Her friend did not disagree, though she was rueful to leave her alone. "I'll be back tomorrow morning," she promised. "And I'll send for a nurse on the way out, so you can get something to eat-"

"Really, Ange. It isn't necessary for you to do that; I wouldn't be able to keep anything down anyway," Brennan reasoned.

Though she was skeptical, Angela submitted, and with a tight squeeze of the hand, she departed.

Brennan closed her eyes, momentarily, and much to her surprise, opened them much later. Straining her eyes through the dark room, she discovered that the moon was at its apex, and the world beyond her hospital room glowed with city night-lights. Cautiously, and slowly, Brennan put both feet over the side of her bed. The hospital camisole she wore gave little defence against the chill of the coming winter. Taking her windcheater from a neatly folded pile of clothing in the corner of the room, Brennan slipped on her socks, and stuck her head out into the hallway. Deserted for the night, there was not a soul to witness her. Moving towards the receptionists' desk, she moved around to the computer. Her hand froze as it brushed a coffee cup - lukewarm - but when she had inspected the area once again for residents, and was satisfied that she was safe enough, Brennan leant towards the screen, and took hold of the mouse. Entering onto the patient database - which had been carelessly left open _(she assumed that its tender was visiting the bathroom)_ Brennan entered a search.

_Seeley Booth._

He was on the third floor. She was on the second. Scribbling his room number on a sheet of paper, Brennan startled when she heard distant footsteps. Exiting the search, she spotted a laundry trolley across the hall, shadowed in a corner. Peeping outwards down the aisle, she scrunched the sheet of paper in her hand, and made her run for it.

Slipping in beside it, she heard voices question whether they had seen something. They approached with more haste. Looking around desperately, a dimly lit doorway read:

'FIRE STAIRWAY. EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY.'

The persons were close.

Grasping the handle quickly, she held onto the frame firmly - so not as to create a sound when she ducked through. When she was safely inside, she inwardly cursed; the concrete stairway was, not only freezing, but vert poorly lit. Huffing determinedly, Brennan made her way carefully up the flight of stairs. Though she was only travelling to the next floor, weakened by her medicine, no doubt, and that she had been constricted to bed since her pregnancy scare, meant that her legs burned weakly before she had even finished the first level.

Finally reaching a utility door that led to the third floor, Brennan let herself in. Unfolding the sticky-note that had been pressed into the palm of her hand, she began searching for the corresponding room. As she walked, an involuntary shiver could not be contained; there were so many branches off to white, cold halls. So much silence, and despair. The hospital felt more like a mausoleum, not a sanctuary for the sickly and injured.

Stumbling past each room, Brennan arrived finally arrived at Booth's.

_Be brave,_ she thought achingly. Heart in her throat, she entered quietly.

He slept in a bed that aligned with a large window that would, during the day, face the sun. From a distance, it almost seemed as though nothing were wrong with him - that he dreamt in a peaceful slumber. Upon advancing, however, as her eyes tightened against the dimness of the room, her stomach wrenched when she acknowledged his injuries.

Bruises and cuts covered his body, and several large bandages, stained with blood, covered flesh wounds on his legs, arms and torso.

A sob rose in her throat, unbidden and full of agony. Collapsing to a kneel beside his bed, she rested her head beside his listless hand and cried silently. Compartmentalising in this situation was worthless; she couldn't shut out the pain.

A weighted, enervated hand rested on her head, and began to stroke her disarrayed hair.

She lifted her eyes.

"Hi," Booth croaked, offering a small smile.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. "H-hi..." Her voice cracked.

"Don't cry, baby," he pleaded, cupping her face as best he could. "I'm okay now."

"Look at you!" she cried in a strangled whisper. "Look what he _did _to you. I could kill him! I _want_ to kill him…I-"

"Shh, Bones, it's okay…"

"None of this is okay!" she flung back at him. "I _hate_ him."

He took as deep of a breath as he could.

She took a hint, and did the same. Eyes cast down, she mumbled, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so emotional."

"You can't check emotions, Bones. They just happen." His eyes softened, glistening with moisture. "It's okay."

She reached over and kissed him lightly - like the brush of a feather.

"You'd think you'd be used to your partner being knocked around by now," he coughed after a moment of silence, attempting to lighten the mood.

Her eyes glazed with tears. "Oh, god." She kissed his good hand. "I will never allow myself to be okay with you getting hurt." She cupped his face. "You just need to promise me that you'll try really hard not to put yourself in harm's way, okay?"

He smiled weakly. "I'm a cop, baby, so I can't promise my safety."

"Promise me?" she pleaded, and stood, taking his good hand, and resting it against her womb. When she received no response, she whispered, "we can't lose you Booth." Her head bowed above his.

"You'll never-"

"Not as a friend, or a lover, or a soulmate; I know that." She kissed his forehead. "I just don't…that moment when I felt like I lost you…I-"

There was a light knock on the door. "Ma'am?" It was a nurse.

Brennan stood shakily. "…Y-yes?"

"You shouldn't be in here. Agent Booth needs rest. This is against the rules; it's the middle of the night."

Brennan shook her head. "I stay with him. Even if it's while he' sleeping." When the nurse went to protest, she cut her off with, "We've been through hell and back today. I almost lost our child. I want to be with my fiancé. Now, should you please fetch a cot from the storage cupboard, I would be extremely grateful."

The nurse nodded very reluctantly.

"Thank you," said Brennan.

When the woman left, Booth's fingers gripped hers. "You nearly lost the baby?" he asked quietly. Though he had known that she was pregnant from the moment she had told him it was a possibility, the confirmation that the small life existed was icing on the cake.

"The shock…" Brennan tried to explain. "I…I went to the crash site. I thought you were dead-"

"Why didn't anyone tell you I wasn't?"

"I wasn't consolable, Booth. I was out of my mind in despair; no one could have gotten through to me." She cast her eyes down, and locks of brown hair covered her face. "I thought you were dead," she repeated, almost inaudibly.

His thumb caressed her hand. "Fiancé?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It sounded fitting," she replied, blushing. "Girlfriend makes it sound like we're teenagers, and that I snuck into your room-"

"Isn't that what you just did?"

She ignored the pick-up. "Didn't you like it?"

He knew that she'd skipped his quip. "I didn't mind it at all." He smiled as best as his bruised face would allow.

Iron wheels squeaked to a halt at the doorway. "I'm sure you can get it from here," the nurse huffed bitterly, patting a pile of bed covers on top of the portable cot.

"I'm sure if I always worked the night shift my patience would be short too," Brennan replied immediately, before she could stop herself.

The nurse bit her cheeks. "Another word and you go back to your room. Am I clear?"

Brennan nodded obediently _- like a child that had been warned by a teacher -_ and then the woman left them alone.

After setting it up closely to Booth's bed, Brennan settled down into it, and drew the covers to her chin.

"You know, that this afternoon was the first time I've slept in days," she stated in a whisper.

Booth sighed. "They gave you a sedative, didn't they?"

"I suppose."

"Then that's why."

Smiling in spite of herself, Brennan's hand drifted to her lower abdomen. Her smile faded. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the pregnancy," came her quiet murmur after a moment of contemplation.

Booth cleared his throat. "I was conflicted about whether I should just tell you that I sort of understood why you did what you did, or, then again, how I don't get why you wouldn't tell me. I don't how to answer you."

"You just did," Brennan answered, closing her eyes. "Booth…I really am sorry."

"It's alright," he yawned. "We'll talk about it tomorrow" _-another yawn-_ "when I'm a little…" he drifted off.

"Okay," his partner barely whispered, catching the contagiousness of yawns. "…'Night. I love you."

"I love you too."

Brennan waited until she heard his breathing lapse into a steady rhythm as he slept, before she allowed herself to slumber. She almost felt that, if she closed her eyes, when she opened them again, the chaos of the past twenty-four hours would relive itself.

"Go to sleep," Booth muttered suddenly, making her fright out of her skin.

"How did you know I was-?"

"I'll still be here when you wake up," he promised, as if he were reading her thoughts.

Though her body willed against it, Brennan emerged from her covers, and leant above Booth, pressing her lips to his. He responded with gentle pressure, and when she broke apart, he smiled.

"That would send anyone off with sweet dreams," he murmured.

She kissed his forehead. "After everything that's happened, I think that you and I could use a few of those."

Booth reached up to her face with his good arm, and stroked her cheek. "Then promise me you'll sleep." He cupped the side of her face. "I'll still be here when you wake up," he repeated.

Kissing him chastely, once more, Brennan took up her place in the cot again.

"How did you know that I wasn't sleeping?" She asked, snuggling down.

"I just did."

Brennan yawned. "Can we call her Christine?"

The frown was evident in Booth's voice, when he answered with, "Call whom?"

"Our baby," came the simple reply.

Booth paused before answering. "How do you know that it's a girl?"

Brennan smiled and closed her eyes. "I just do."

* * *

><p><strong>How about that?<strong>

**Well, you know with me, peace doesn't last long and I love drama to much, but for now, I think you needed a cheery on top of your cakes!**

**More to come (of course!) **

_**You know where that button is - don't make me beg ;) **_

_**(Thank you to all that reviewed and favourited - made my day to know that you guys care! xxx)**_


	33. Part II: Perseverance

**The Matter to the Bones**

**Hi Everyone! I apologise for my long absence - I had a massive story to write for English = no time for Bones :(**

**But I'm back now! Thank you for sticking with me! xxx**

_(I'm so sorry it's so short guys, but's all I've had the time for at the moment!) :/_

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><p><strong>33. Perseverance<strong>

* * *

><p>Brennan roused the following morning to the scent of strong coffee, and eggs and bacon. Strangely - though she hadn't eaten meat in years due to her dietary choice to be a vegetarian - her stomach gnawed hungrily as the flavours entered her nostrils upon inhale.<p>

Propping herself up on her elbows, she was stunned by what she opened her eyes to.

Her father set out breakfast - for Booth - on a tray, and the two men conversed lowly. When they noticed that she was awake, both smiled - almost as if the events of the past day had long since occurred, and were out of sight, out of mind.

"Hey sweet-heart." Max set down the paper bag he held, and moved around the bed so he could lean down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Dad - what are you doing here?"

"Can't I be here because I'm worried about you?" He asked innocently.

Brennan sighed. "Of course you can. I just…didn't know you were coming."

Max shrugged. "Well, I wasn't going to come 'til later, but Booth wanted breakfast…"

"And?" Brennan piped.

Max exchanged a glance with Booth, and then exited.

Frowning, she directed her stare at her partner. "What's going on?"

Booth stared at his hands, and exhaled heavily - wincing, as it discomforted his lungs. "Max is taking you home to his place," he eventually revealed, eyes meeting Brennan's.

"It's okay," she replied slowly. "I thought just as much anyway-"

"No, Bren. For longer than just a day or two."

Brennan's eyes tightened as she her mind worked to comprehend. "How long?" She finally managed.

"Until Broadsky is caught."

"No." She shook her head. "No."

"Bones, please, listen to me-"

"Have you forgotten what just happened to you?" She threw back the covers and stood by his side. "To us? I should have been with you, Booth. I'm your partner, and you took the bullet - metaphorically. If I leave you alone though? It won't be metaphorical, Booth. It will _actually happen_."

"And if you stay close to me for any longer it could happen to you!" He yelled. Taking a necessary breath, he stared directly into her eyes - boring down to her core. "You're not just thinking about yourself anymore," he reminded her seriously. "Do you remember, that time, when we had to take care of that baby, Andy?"

She nodded.

He continued. "Do you remember when we went to the trailer, and we found the drunk father?"

Another nod.

Booth placed a hand on her belly. "Before we knew who was in there, I told you that if anything happened, you were to drive away. Because it was about the baby. Making sure that the baby was safe. And you agreed with me."

Brennan cast her eyes down.

"Hey," he pressed.

She looked at him again.

"You've changed so much since then," he said gently. "Grown. And, if you were prepared leave me there, and drive away for the sake of that baby-"

"Because you told me to," she interrupted.

Booth gave her a reproachful look, and continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Then it's not much to ask that you would do the same for our child." He stroked the palm of her hand tenderly, eyes locking with hers with an unshakeable solemnness.

Brennan retracted. "So what are you asking me to do?"

"I shouldn't have to ask you to take care of our ch-"

"No. What are you asking that I do?"

"I want you to stay off the case," he pleaded adamantly. "I need you to be as safe as possible, because I can't protect you." He clicked his good fingers. "That's how quickly it takes for Broadsky to murder you. And he will do it in cold blood."

Brennan's eyebrows furrowed with worry. "Booth…I'm afraid…"

"I know, but it's going to be o-"he began to assure her, but fell short when she began to shake her head.

"No. I'm not so much worried about that…but, I believe that…in all of this, you've misjudged Broadsky's character," she revealed.

Booth frowned. "What on earth do you mean-"

"In all of this, we just 'assumed' that everything was Broadsky. But…I don't think…I don't think that he'd play games. Psycologically, it isn't correct. It doesn't make sense. He's a hunter, but only of a military-honour-do-what-you-think-is-right morality-"

"Bones."

"Yeah?"

"It's him. All him. Now, I don't want you worrying about it all. Go with your father. Get some rest. I'll see you soon."

Brennan's jaw visibly tightened, and Booth knew that it was because she was holding back a response. Instead, she bent her head towards his and rested her lips on his forehead.

"I'll come and see you tomorrow-" she began, but cut off when she felt him shake his head beneath her. "So I'm not even allowed to make sure you're okay?" She registered.

"I don't want to put you in any danger, when I can't protect you," he answered simply.

She stepped back. "Did you ever study Macbeth?"

Booth furrowed a brow. "In the eleventh grade…but how is that even relevant?"

"Well, you know how the witches tempted him, and, though they couldn't make his demise happen, they could still have a hand in provoking him onto his own road of self-destruction."

"Your point being?"

"Broadsky is the witches; he can tempt us - and, actually kill us, in this instance - but when Macbeth heard from them that he was going to be murdered by a man not of natural birth, Macbeth thought that by demolishing every person whom was a threat to him, it would make him safe and he would cheat death. Little did he know, that by doing so he only pitted more people against him," Brennan finished.

Booth stared at her with frustrated cluelessness.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "The moral of this little story is that, Broadsky wants you to overreact about this. You're only making it easier for him to get under your skin every time you react. By going to any means necessary to protect me, you could just be putting us all in more danger."

Footsteps at the doorway. "Dr Brennan is actually quite right, Agent Booth."

"Sweets." Brennan smiled. With hastened steps, she greeted him with a warm embrace. "How were The Hamptons?"

"Agent Fuller will be very happy there, I believe," said Sweets, nodding he's head as he spoke - as if he were agreeing with himself. "Early retirement was the right call."

"Speaking of making right calls," Brennan interjected, as Booth began to cuss, "Booth wants me to go home with my father. Away."

Sweets folded his arms. "Then I think he's made the right call."

Brennan glared at him. "He wants me to stay away until Broadsky's caught."

The psychologist's stare became dubious, and looked to Booth. "You don't know how long that's going to be…"

"She has to," Booth answered sharply, and when both friends went to interrupt him, he quickly finished with, "she's pregnant."

Sweets' jaw dropped.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Pregnant or not, I'm not staying away from you indefinitely - now that's irrational. Sweets" - she hit his arm - "you've done a character profile of Broadsky, and you know that by moving me away, because Booth thinks that he will hurt me, will only make him try to hurt me even more."

Booth's head snapped backwards and hit the headboard of the bed. "Just let it go Bones. Trust that I'm doing the right thing."

"I won't leave you Booth!" Brennan yelled, all reason having dissipated. "Now, I'm happy to stay with Dad for a couple of days, but as soon as you are discharged, I'm coming to get you. Is that understood?"

Booth's eyes closed, and he wouldn't open. "Go home, Bones," he whispered.

Watching the two men for a prolonged moment, and receiving no further support, Brennan stormed out of the room.

"You're pregnant, honey?" Max asked from behind her.

She halted. "You heard."

Max shrugged. "Kinda hard not to, Tempe. You guys weren't exactly sticking to hospital guidelines so far as volume levels go."

Brennan sighed, and stared at her feet. "I don't know how many weeks yet, but they confirmed it last night when Angie and Hodgins brought me in here."

Max nodded in understanding. "Do you wanna get checked out know - while you're here?"

Brennan hesitated. "I wish…I wanted…"

"To do it with Booth," her father finished.

Brennan looked back towards his room. "Yeah."

"There'll be plenty of time for that," he promised.

She met his gaze. "I'm just not so sure anymore."

"Don't doubt, honey. Just take every day as it comes."

"Is that how you did it with Mom?"

He put an arm around her shoulders. "It's how I do everything."

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

_Crash!_

Brennan sprung from a deep, exhausted sleep the following morning with a start. Fearing the worst, her eyes darted to the door. Lifting her head painfully from its crooked position on the couch, she spied her father's golf club bag by the coat stand. At first, she thought the sound of something gushing to be an air conditioner left on, but soon learned that it was water that pelted against the windows of the small living room. In front of her, a black and white film flickered on a modest screen a few feet away. Reaching the doorway, she pressed her ear to the panel of wood.

Nothing.

She peered through the glass hole. No person stood in the doorway.

But a bouquet of flowers lay in their place. Pulling aside the slide bolt and unlocking the the heaving latch with care, Brennan only allowed a small crevice, so she could reach out and draw it in.

It was an assortment of white hydrangeas.

_Perseverance,_ Brennan thought sadly, taking up the beautifully wrapped bundle to her chest and closing the door behind her. As she went to reach for the gift tag to read it's message, however, the bunch vibrated. Throwing the flowers halfway across the room, she noticed a small mobile phone spiral through the air and fall below the coffee table. She checked her wristwatch.

It wasn't yet six in the morning.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and hit the third number on speed dial. "Jack? It's Brennan. I'm sorry, I know it's early, but I really need you-"

She didn't need explain any further.

"I'll be there," he answered promptly on the other end of the line.

Hodgins arrived at her father's apartment twenty minutes after the phone call.

"Is the baby okay?"

She nodded. "Fine, Hodgins. But it's…that" - she pointed to the bunch of flowers - "I don't know what to make of it. I haven't touched anything other than the wrapping."

Her friend knelt down beside it. "Hey - is this yours?" He pointed to a cell phone lying nearby.

Brennan stepped forward. She shook her head. "And it doesn't belong to my father either; he has a Blackberry."

At that moment, it began to ring.

"What do we do?" Brennan moved carefully around the phone as if it were a poisonous snake.

"I'll answer it," Hodgins offered. There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, and then his eyes flickered to hers in silent panic. He ended the call.

"What is it? What did they say?" Brennan's chest was so tight, her words came out in nothing more than a whisper.

After a painfully long moment, the words he said next made her chill to the bone.

"You're next."

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><p><strong>You know where that box is, kids. Go and have a play in it for me and leave a party favour ;)<strong>

**xx**


	34. Part II: Know Thy Enemy

Hey hey! Look I know it's been WAAAAYY to long, and I probably deserve a beating, but life's been so cray-cray and it's been really hard to find the time, let alone get inspired at the same time :( :( Today, however - thought it was time to break the stalemate, aye? Thankyou so much to all who reviewed last chapter, and all the follows and favs in between - for all of you that have stuck with me, thick and thin, it really means the world to me, so thanks!

Anyways enjoy guys! :) xx

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><p><strong>34. Know Thy Enemy<strong>

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><p>"Stay away from the windows."<br>Brennan put two hands up and backed away. "I was going to the fridge, but whatever."  
>"Just stay out of sniper sight." Hodgins maneuvered around her, and peeked through a slit between the curtain and frame.<br>Brennan went back to the wall she had leant on in the fifteen minutes since 'the phone call'. "Is the coast clear?"  
>Hodgins let the drape fall back into place. "The car is still wrapped around the fire hydrant, and no sign of the feds."<br>After the phone had rung, there had been a commotion below, and when both went to inspect via the window, they had discovered an abandoned car, steaming and hissing beneath the spray of a red fire hydrant. Hodgins, of course, had come to the conclusion that the vehicle belonged to Broadsky, however Brennan had been more optimistic.  
>And at that moment, she moaned in response to the latest update, "Great." Her eyes travelled to her father's landline. She had used it ten minutes before to call Max, while Hodgins had called the FBI and, naturally, he had promised to return immediately from work.<br>There was no sign of him.  
>Hodgins noticed the depressed look about her. "Did you tell Booth?"<br>Brennan gripped the sides of her ribs. "No."  
>Hodgins regarded her incredulously. "Why not?"<br>"Well, 'A' - there is nothing he can do about it. 'B'…exactly what I just said." She exhaled sharply, and leant back against the plaster. "Amongst everything that's happened, the last thing I need is Booth flipping out about one more thing."  
>Hodgins nodded comprehensively, but then studied her a moment.<br>Brennan didn't miss a thing, and she questioned his intent.  
>"You've changed," he told her quietly, a small smile giving away at the corners of his mouth.<br>"Changed, 'how'?"  
>He shrugged. "You're stronger. More relaxed. I don't know - can't really put my finger on it."<br>"Maybe it's the baby," Brennan laughed softly, hand subconsciously drifting to her lower abdomen.  
>"It's you - as an individual. You just seem more…in control."<br>The anthropologist smirked. "What, like I never was before…?"  
>"Before you and Booth went your separate ways, you were obsessively in control. Now, you're in control of what matters. Am I making sense?"<br>Brennan smiled. "I'm not sure I fully understand, but I'll do you the justice of just saying that I do."  
>"Still the same, though," he chuckled.<br>At that moment, there was a loud, pounding fist against the door. Hodgins moved to the peephole.  
>"It's the agents," he informed her.<br>"Then let them in," Brennan permitted impatiently.  
>Agent Genny Shaw listened patiently as Jack and Brennan explained the events that had transpired within the last hour - and Brennan also informed Genny of a summarised version of the hospital.<br>"He could have somebody on the inside," Shaw depicted, wringing her hands. "Someone in that hospital has to be on his side."  
>"Why do you say that?" Brennan questioned.<br>Hodgins stepped forward. "Well, think about it; he knew your exact location. He knew about everything - either he has a cam on you, or he's got loyal slaves."  
>Brennan pondered a moment. "But slaves are just that," she digressed. "Slaves - bought for money. If he has anyone like that on the inside, keeping an eye on me, then there's bound to be a price for it."<br>Shaw nodded, and waved over her assisting agents, and informed them of her thesis. When they huddled off together, she turned back to Brennan. "We're going to turn you into custody for your protection - unfortunately your father's was too much of an obvious choice. Can you pack you things?"  
>Brennan shook her head. "No need; I took nothing out of my bag but my toothbrush."<br>Hodgins grabbed her arm. "Booth told me about you dramatic monologue in the hospital - why no resistance now?"  
>Brennan retracted her arm from his grip. "Because by being here, I'm only putting my father in danger. And I would have been safer at the hospital, if I had remained with Booth. Here, I'm vulnerable. My baby is. My father is; It isn't only my life that's at sake."<br>"Are you ready Dr Brennan?" Genny touched her shoulder.  
>She nodded, exchanging a glance with Jack. "Let's go."<br>Hodgins parted ways with them at the exist to the under-ground car park. "I'll meet you straight away at the r. You won't be alone," he promised Brennan.  
>Swallowing, she leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.<br>They then departed the building, without a glance back.  
>"Does Charlie know what's going on?" Brennan asked Shaw as they stepped out into the cold chill of the winter morning.<br>Shaw nodded. "He's in the loop."  
>"How's he going? I heard that his son was really crook again?" An agent inquired from behind Brennan.<br>"He's on the mend, but it'll be-"  
>Shielded by six agents, Brennan didn't here the gunshot until the man directly in front of her dropped.<br>"Get down!" Genny yelled, retrieving her gun. "Now!  
>All agents covered Brennan protectively.<br>An agent from behind Brennan leapt from his cover to the company car.  
>As he opened the door, however, his body jerked sickeningly, and in a moment of suspense, he too, slipped to the ground.<br>A third crawled to the open door, and yanked down the transceiver. "Twenty-two-eight-o-one, radioing in two agents down, at Fifty-Seven on Racer Street. Assailant is armed and dangerous. On the loose. Requesting back-up. One civilian and four stable agents present. Over."  
>"Twenty-two-eight-o-one you've reached Central. Sending out two units. Approximate arrival time five minutes. Remain to the ground. Over."<br>"Copy that." In a swift movement, the agent returned the device to its cradle, and motioned for his fellow agents to move in beside him. "Stay low," he ordered. "Keep it tight."  
>At that moment, two police cruisers and a fire engine rounded the corner, bound for the wrecked car. As the first vehicle rolled to a stop near the wreckage, Brennan witnessed a sight that etched itself into her memory like a dark stain in a white ledger.<br>The whole street illuminated with the explosion of the wrecked car.  
>Thrown feet away from their cover, Brennan met the ground with a thud. Fighting to stay conscious, her brain viciously fought to shut down and protect itself.<br>_No,_ she ordered silently. _Not twice in two days. You stay awake. Stay…_  
>A vignette cover clouded the corner of her eyes.<br>"_Bren_!"  
>She blinked away at the tears in her eyes - fighting against the sting of the smoke.<br>Two strong arms grasped the pits of her arms, and dragged her into a warm car. Her eyes only managed to draw open long enough to see her saviour.  
>Hodgins gripped the wheel so fiercely, the knuckles in his hands bulged whiter than the snow flakes that had begun their decent into the atmosphere.<p>

**.  
><strong>

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

**.**

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" Booth roared, coughing at the effort it took to raise his voice.  
>Hodgins' fists balled by his sides. "It was the right call."<br>"Right call?" Booth pounded his good wrist against the wall of the hallway, the toned muscles of his torso rippling out from his bare chest. "How is any of this the right call?"  
>"I don't know, you tell me? None of this would have happened if you let her stay here. She would have been safe."<br>"Broadsky bombed a street! Four agents are dead - if she stayed here, he would have-"  
>"What, <em>bombed<em> the hospital?" Hodgins snarled in response. "Terrorism, I believe you would call it. I suppose it isn't such a stretch…"  
>"Broadsky is not a terrorist-"<br>"You need to choose your side."  
>"I have. And there are no sides! What the hell does that have to do with all of this?"<br>"Jacob Broadsky isn't a friend, or your comrade anymore - he's a murderer," Hodgins hissed in reply, "and he's so hellbent on revenge over you that he's willing to extend the lengths of collateral damage to killing civilians. Killing people he doesn't even know. People who wouldn't know your face between the person next to you. Innocents."  
>"I know!" Booth ran a hand feverishly through his tousled hair.<br>Hodgins' hands swung loosely by his sides, and he said darkly, "I don't think you do."  
>Booth's jaw stiffened. "And what makes you so right, in all of this?"<br>Hodgins' fingers curled again. "I'm an only child. Brennan is the closest thing I have to a sister."  
>"But she's in love with me!"<br>"I've known her longer than you."  
>"And that means you know what's best for her?" Booth demanded, shoulders rising and falling erratically as he tried to calm his breathing.<br>"Yeah, I think it gives me some jurisdiction."  
>Booth had no answer. For a long moment, both men had each other locked in a stand-off, eyes maliciously shooting daggers at the other.<br>"Enough!" A strong, feminine voice called.  
>Cam.<br>"Boys," came Angela's quiet voice. "What's going on?"  
>"Nothing, beautiful," Hodgins replied. "We're just having a disagreement over a couple of things. Right, Booth?"<br>The agent nodded.  
>Came came to Booth's side. "Seeley, what are you doing out here? You need to be in bed-"<br>"Brennan's already gone," was all he said.  
>Angela's arms folded across her chest. "Do you know where they've taken her?"<br>Even Hodgins had no answer to that - though, after a moment, he said, "The less we know, the better."  
>At that moment, the trill of Cam's phone made them all jump.<br>"It's an unlisted number," she said slowly. She lifted the device to her ear. "Hello?"  
>Her face clouded, and she held out the mobile to Booth. "It's Tempe."<br>Booth took the phone with a trembling hand. "Bones?" He choked into the receiver.  
>"Booth," she whispered across the line. "I'm so sorry it had to be like this. I wanted to see you, but they took me right away. They're driving me to a safe house."<br>"I know," he said thickly. "Hodgins told me."  
>"Please don't kill him."<br>Booth laughed dryly, in spite of himself. "Are the both of you okay?" There was a pause on the other end, and it made the expecting father's stomach churn nervously. "Bones?"  
>"We're okay," she murmured. "Just be safe, okay? I can't tell you where I'm going - I'm using the FBI's untraceable phone-"<br>"It's okay." Booth swallowed. "I know."  
>"Win for us. Promise me?"<br>A cloud of water blurred Booth's vision. "Yeah, I promise."  
>"And I'll see you soon, okay? You're going to be fine. You hear me?"<br>He could hear the tears in her voice, and it broke his heart even more. "Yeah baby. I love you. They'll take care of you."  
>"I know. I love you too."<br>There was a moment of silence between them.  
>"I don't want to hang up," she cried softly.<br>"I know baby. I love you."  
>He ended the call.<p>

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><p><em><strong>So sad :( I know, I'm sorry - it's what my muse ordered! :**_

_**Please tell me what you think guys - I'll be back to review-one-liners next time, I promise!**_

_**Thank you for reading - lots of love x G**_


	35. Part II: CIA

_**You know my muse is being kind when I upload another chapter within 24 hours ;) enjoy kids!**_

_**[and i do apologise for keeping them short, but time's not something i have a lot of these days :( ]  
><strong>_

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><p><strong>35. CIA<strong>

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><p>"I really don't think you should be back at work," Cam fussed, helping Booth out of her car. "I mean, if the fact that you can hardly walk without wincing isn't an indicator, then-"<br>"Camille," Booth halted her. "You know me. I wouldn't have healed any better in there than out here; not while Bones is God knows where, and she can't come home until its safe."  
>She slung his briefcase over her arm. "It's a bad idea."<br>He gripped her arm. "I have my good hand, and I can fire a weapon. I can defend myself."  
>"Uh huh. And your breathing?"<br>"Tolerable."  
>"Running?"<br>"Manageable."  
>Though Cam still eyed him with doubt, she let it slide; no doubt a coworker would have a go at him for returning to work soon, and she didn't need to add to his list of troubles.<br>After bidding Cam farewell from the elevator, Booth entered his floor, only to find all the agents circle around one of the numerous televisions, glued to a youthful - but solemn - female reporter.  
>"<em>…The CIA have pledged their services to these confirmed acts of terrorism performed against the general civilian public,"<em> she informed seriously, eyes staring down the camera._ "Rogue turned-fugitive military sniper Jacob Broadsky is the primary suspect suggested responsible. The explosions makes two in the last twenty-four hours, which were both believed to revolve around-"_  
>Booth muted the television. "What's going on? How do they know about Jacob?"<br>It was Charlie who braved the storm, and replied with, "The CIA are involved."  
>Another agent intercepted. "The Agency is pretty tight about this sort of thing…"<br>"It was an anonymous source," a third intercepted - a woman, with dark red hair, and shocking blue eyes; a newbie, Booth supposed. "Who ever gave them the tip, saw it as being the right thing to do," she continued, "now that he has been classified as a terrorist-"  
>"But he isn't!" Booth argued. "This isn't a matter of National Security. This is a patriotic man exterminating persons he deems unfit to live. The CIA shouldn't have stuck their damn noses in-"<br>"My husband works for the CIA," the redhead interrupted him. "Have care how you speak."  
>Booth checked himself. "Why have they confirmed these events as acts of terrorism?"<br>"According to the information that we discovered yesterday after the first explosion - which we had to disclose to the CIA last night - Broadsky was in the Middle East two months ago."  
>"Not possible. He wouldn't have slipped through our radar-"<br>"Well he did," Red cut in.  
>Booth turned a hard eye on her. "Who do you work for? Them, or us?"<br>The woman bit her cheeks, and diverted her stare elsewhere.  
>"Regardless," Booth surmised. "The fact that he travelled to the Middle East eight weeks ago, and has been plucking off citizens ever since, does not make him a terrorist."<br>"Do you know how many casualties resulted from the bombings yesterday?" It was the agent that had spoken after Charlie - a middle-aged man, with black hair galloping towards grey. Thin lips, long nose; Donald Sutherland.  
>Booth shifted on his feet; Sutherland had been in the legal system for years - and though he had only recently joined the FBI, having left the CIA after twenty years of service - the man knew his stuff.<br>Now, he folded his arms confidently across his chest. "The Bali Bombings in the Kuta Strip in Indonesia killed two-hundred-and-two people. Eighty-eight Australians, thirty-eight Indonesians, and five Swedes. It was classified as an act of terrorism. "  
>"Because it was performed by Al Qaeda," Booth supplied impatiently. "Broadsky isn't the Al Qaeda. He's a man who's so hell bent on revenge that he's lost his mind."<br>"Yes, but between the car accident, and that morning explosion yesterday, nearly fifty people were killed. fifty, Agent Booth. The definition for terrorism stands that it is when another country, or personal uses acts of violence against the general public and/or military force. For means of power, destruction…yadda yadda. You understand what I mean."  
>Booth sighed. "Broadsky isn't-"<br>Red interrupted him. Again. "Then maybe it's not all Broadsky - and that's the CIA's point. They're coming in to determine who - or if - someone else is behind this with Jacob."  
>Donald spoke up again with, "Think about it; everyone of Broadsky's murders has moved further up the food chain. What if he suddenly decided a senator didn't deserve his seat, or the elected president was a wrong choice?"<br>Booth pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need to…go and look into a few things. You guys keep on here - stay with the tracker, come and get me if you've found anything serious. I want a print-out of every blog and article that hits the web about this."  
>A desk jockey amongst the assembled agents grumbled as he walked away, but all the rest had returned to viewing the breaking news.<br>Booth dropped into his desk chair with as much care as he could. He took a pencil between his fingers, and played with it. It was such a simple piece of equipment, but it brought him entertainment for at least ten minutes.  
><em>Something small can turn into something big,<em> he thought. _But big things create even bigger things._  
>At that moment, he smirked to himself; if he had spoken those words aloud, and Brennan had been there to hear them, she would have complained about his 'unintelligent cop talk' - but to him, it made sense, and her anthro-mojo didn't. That was how they worked - but they complimented each other.<br>A tight pain shot through his chest.  
>He missed her, and it had only been a day.<br>And one, very long night.  
>For a while, his thoughts lingered on his partner. Their child.<br>And then, when the clock trilled to mark midday, he found his mind snapping back to a train of thought that had almost been all but forgotten.  
>At that moment, there was a pounding fist at the door.<br>He looked up.  
>It was the woman.<br>Booth waved a finger, permitting her entrance.  
>"What do I call you, Red?" He asked dryly, oblivious to how her eyes narrowed when he nicknamed her in reference to her hair.<br>"Agent Sophia Rogers," she replied evenly, a flame of irritation wavering through her being. "I'm stepping in for Agent Shaw."  
>She was very pretty, Booth had to admit. Sophia had an amazing figure, and an air that, once upon a time, Booth knew he would have fallen for.<br>Offering her a tight smile, he indicated for her to take a seat. "What have you discovered, Ms Rogers?"  
>"Agent Rogers. Don't antagonise me sir."<br>Booth put both palms face-out to her. "My apologies - I'm a little short on manners in these…trying times." He leant back into her chair. "Now, what do have to tell me?"  
>Sophia stood. "You say that Broadsky's motivation to hurt you and your wife, is purely to have revenge on you, correct?"<br>Booth's eyes glazed over. "Temperance isn't my wife, but Broadsky wants to hurt her, because he knows it's the only way he can really hurt me."  
>Sophia's hands clasped together, and she probed them with her nails. "Why does he hate you so much?"<br>"Because I picked the wrong side," Booth answered simply.  
>Before he could say anything more, Sweets had entered the office, and leant over the desk.<br>"Hi Sophia," he quickly acknowledged, then turning on Booth with a narrowed eye. "What are you doing at work? You're supposed to be resting!"  
>"Sorry Mom," Booth answered shortly.<br>In the meantime, Rogers studied Booth intently. "He doesn't hate you because you're the fed that's trying to arrest him," she observed, as if the two men had not spoken. "His anger stems from something much older than a few weeks of the FBI chasing him."  
>Sweets glanced between the two, and put the pieces together. "Agent Rogers is right."<br>"Oh, so I'm Agent, now?" Sophia's eyebrows jutted skywards.  
>Booth exhaled so sharply, it appeared to his company as though he had been gutted.<br>"Booth!" Sweets went to his side.  
>"Agent Booth?" Sophia, too, moved towards him. "Sir?"<br>He shook his head, as if shaking off a bad memory. "It can't be," he whispered.  
>"What do you mean?" The other two asked in unison.<br>It took him a while to respond. "Almost twenty years, and he's still taking me for trips down memory lane."  
>"I'm afraid I don't understand," Sophia said slowly.<br>Sweets concentrated intensely for moment. "You were twenty. What happened when you were twenty years old?"  
>"Broadsky was training me to be a sniper," Booth replied quietly.<br>"What happened?" Rogers pressed.  
>No answer.<br>"What happened when Broadsky was training you to be a sniper, Agent Booth?" Sweets supported Sophia, with a tone that had as much force behind it, as hers had.  
>Booth rose from his chair slowly, and moved to the decanter of liquor that he kept for his office.<br>"I advise that you don't drink-" Sweets began, but trailed off when Booth shot him a look.  
>Pouring himself a glass of whiskey, he downed its contents with one toss back of the head. "It was my first mission as a sniper," he began, sitting in one of his armchairs. "Jacob Broadsky had just spent the previous six months training me as a sniper - he had been assigned to me when a general saw me practicing with my firearm during a routine exercise, and he scouted me immediately. Given my…ability, he thought that I could do quite well." Booth looked up from his glass, to the two young people. "I wasn't experienced enough, and natural talent only gets you so far…I wasn't ready for what they sent me into."<br>"What did they send you into, Agent Booth?" Sweets asked quietly.  
>Booth took a deep breath. "We ran into a group of insurgents - <em>'terrorists'<em> as the office later pronounced them - in a village on one of our patrols. Jake took out two of the nine, and I went to shoot as well, but then, this woman - this young, woman ran out crying for them to be spared-" Booth cut off and swallowed hard. "My compassion won over what was morally right. What should have been done...so I pulled Jake away. He was furious, and he wanted to go back. a fortnight later, the survivors of the same group bombed one of our bases."  
>"As an act of revenge?" Sweets wondered aloud.<br>"Oh my God," Sophia said breathlessly. "Jacob Broadsky could have been awarded that day for saving lives, and he didn't, because of you."  
>The psychologist snapped his fingers. "It's like Broadsky's having a midlife crisis, and blaming you for everything turning shit in his life."<br>"Nicely deduced," Booth chuckled dryly, standing. "Nah, I just…I didn't think anything of that time - I mean, it happened to long ago, and there was just no way that his fury could have come front that incident, because even though he was upset, he stood up for me when I got shit for it, and he told me that I was right to have trusted my gut - even though I wasn't…"  
>"You can't be the one to take him down," Sophia announced. "You're too personally involved."<br>"Everything is personal, in this world," Booth said tiredly. "Past or no past, I need to take him down; he tried to kill me, and my girlfriend. If I let him go for too much longer, he'll take down someone else I care about" - he directed his stare at Sweets, pointing a finger - "including you."  
>"Right," Sophia sighed. "Well I need to get a written report of the events that transpired between you and Jacob Broadsky around that time. Anything else pops up, throw it in."<br>"Why to you?" Booth demanded. "You're not even a Special Agent."  
>"No," she replied, shaking her wavy locks. "But my husband is the CIA. They're going to want a copy of this."<br>Sweets pinched the bridge of his nose.  
>Booth clenched his teeth.<br>Great.  
>When Sophia pulled out her phone to text message her husband, Booth's Blackberry vibrated.<br>Upon reading the message, Booth's tongue went sour.  
>"What's it say?" Sweets craned his neck.<br>The Special Agent revealed his screen.

TAKE IT PERSONALLY. I KNOW I DID.

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><p><em><strong>see that box, down the bottom? it's looking pretty empty - i'd love it if you left me a prezzie! 3 please don't read and run, i write this for you guys!<strong>_

_**[thanks for reading - and to my reviewers/favs/follows from last chapter, god bless :) G xx ]**_


	36. Part II: Safe House

**hey guys!**

**thankyou so much for your favs/reviews/follows for last chapter - your support means the world to me, even when i can't post chapters! two weeks of school was pretty hectic so i apologise for not getting this up sooner!  
><strong>

**happy reading! x**

_**DISCLAIMER: this chapter features edited text/dialogue from "The Hole in the Heart" - I do not own it, all rights belong to Hart Hanson and Fox. I mean, please - if these guys DID belong to me, I would've have shown you guys Booth and Brennan doing the deed that episode. Duhh - no brainer! ;) **_

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><p><strong>36. Safe House<br>**

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><p><em>Thud.<em>

First Brennan looked down at the FBI black

duffel bag feet before her, then up to the agent whom had delivered it.

"Everything you asked for was in the bag; Dr Saroyan was very thorough," he told her.

"You went through my bag?" Brennan's tone was breathless with indignation; ever since they had arrived at the safe house four days ago, Brennan could hardly go from one end the house to the other without supervision.

_Thank God I'm allowed to use the bathroom in private, _she thought dryly. _Could be worse._

Put his hands up defensively. "Standard procedure."

"But Clint - it's Cam. Friend, colleague, Cam. She would never do anything to hurt me," Brennan argued.

He shrugged.

Clint Morsell had been the CIA agent that had driven her to the safe house four days earlier, and ever since, he seemed to be the only person that she was able to talk to. He was solid man, with olive skin, short black hair, and a set of white teeth that were so bright, they bordered on incandescent. He bore a pair of honest, green eyes, and his demeanour was warm, and receiving. Though he wasn't a _Calvin Klein_ model, from what Brennan knew of him, he was a nice man - a handsome man, in his own way - and she knew that she had struck it lucky in the baby-sitter department. For that, she was extremely grateful.

Brennan returned the favour with a soft smile of her own. She placed the book she had been reading on the coffee table beside her, and stood, picking up the bag as she did. "Is there any word from back home?" She asked hopefully, slinging the duffel over her shoulder.

Clint reached for the book she had read, and studied the cover intently. "_The Hare with Amber Eyes_?"

Brennan shrugged. "It was on the shelf."

"Did you manage to get it, or was it a bit heavy?"

Brennan sighed, and leant against the arm of the chair. "I think I've read the first sentence one hundred times over in the past hour. It's a fantastic book," she said, "but my mind is really…elsewhere." She waited a moment, and when he made no move to answer her primary question, she asked it again.

The agent let out a long breath. "Agent Booth is back at work-"

"He's _what-?_"

Clint grabbed her arm, but didn't squeeze it. "Don't worry; there's an agent from the CIA acting in as a bodyguard for him, though she's covering as a _'Fed'_."

Brennan frowned in disbelief. "How did the FBI allow that? You've hated each other for as long as both companies go back-"

"Jacob Broadsky poses a threat to National Security, now. Any member of the government is in trouble, and I doubt they would object, when they could easily be held responsible if something happened to any one of them."

Brennan sat down again. "I just don't understand."

"You don't have to. Agent Rogers is only stepping in until this whole thing blows over. It's too dangerous for him to just have friends _'looking out for him'_. And the FBI understands that they can only go so far, before it becomes too much for a few feds."

"You're not bothered about it?"

"I'm part of the CIA. So if they're peeved about it, they don't crack the shits in front of me." Clint ran a hand through his hair. "To put it most simply? We're about the military and the government; if they're under threat or the civilian population is, you'll generally find a CIA agent not too far from the scene."

Brennan nodded comprehensively. "That's logical enough. But if Booth and I are in such danger, then why not bring us _both_ into hiding?"

Clint paused a moment, trying to arrange the correct way to deliver his words. "We almost considered Witness Protection for you both, but then recalled a case - not so long ago - when Broadsky hunted down, and killed a man on Witness Protection. We probably would have been putting you in more danger, if we had chosen for you to do so, because in a system like that, you're restricted. You can only hide and operate as you're told to. The results of an arrangement like that could have been catastrophic."

"And Booth isn't here with me now because…?"

"We need him to find Broadsky. He believes that he is doing all the work to track him down to have the face-off _himself_, but in reality, they're just letting him work, to keep him sated."

Brennan gasped in angry surprise, a sickening wave of worry overcoming her. "You're using him as bait! That's cruel!"

"It isn't," Clint disagreed calmly. "Booth was discharged from the hospital the day after you left because he couldn't stand doing '_nothing'_. This way, he thinks that he's doing something to lead him to the final stand-off, when really it will be a SWAT Team that does the job. He'll be safe." Clint picked up a homeware magazine lying on the nearest coffee table. "Isn't that what you wanted, Dr Brennan?" He reminded her, nonchalantly flicking the pages. "For him to be safe?"

She huffed, and fingered the stitches on her forearm. "His safety is more important than his pride; he would want to be the one to take Broadsky down," she admitted aloud, smiling at his stubbornness. The expression fell. "But he's just so…"

"Proud?"

"He doesn't like asking for help," she answered slowly, eyes wary. "He likes doing things on his own, and he'd hate for anyone to think that he was proud; that, is apparently reserved for the upper-end of society - for the rich and snobby."

"But he is proud, in his own way? Too proud to ask for help?"

Brennan laughed softly. "Yes, he is. I wouldn't mind living in a place like this," she told Clint, motioning to the elaborate, expensively furnished living room. "But he would hate it."

"But surely you must earn a lot for you novels…" Clint drifted off when he read the guarded expression Brennan wore. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask about money," he amended.

She shrugged. "It's a no-brainer, really. I'm very well off, but I'm not the wealthiest there is…," she drifted off, blushing for her frankness. "I suppose that's as nicely as I could have put it, I'm sorry."

Clint smiled. "It's okay. Would you like something to eat?"

"I haven't had breakfast," she admitted.

"Eggs and Bacon?"

Brennan's stomach growled, and her mouth watered. "Sounds wonderful."

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

"You're a vegetarian?" Clint wiped his mouth with a napkin, and smirked. "But you just ate bacon. Why?"

Brennan pondered a moment, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. Decided she had nothing to lose. "I'm pregnant," she said softly. "And for a little while now, all I've wanted to eat is meat - even though I originally went off it, because it was supposed to be healthier…"

"You're pregnant?" Clint grinned.

"Yeah," Brennan breathed. "Yet…I'm surprised you didn't know about that, given that you're…_you_?"

"I don't even think the Bureau knows."

"Surely Booth told them."

Clint shook his head.

Brennan leant back in her chair. "Well I guess not, then. But I shouldn't be too surprised; I've only known for about a week."

"Well, congratulations." Clint lifted his glass of orange juice, and clinked it against hers.

"Thank you," Brennan replied, and after a moment of silence continued. "Are you married?"

Clint smiled, and shook his head.

"Girlfriend?" Brennan probed.

Clint eye's flittered towards the window. "She died in a car accident four years ago."

"I'm so sorry," Brennan sympathised. "Have you…just never gotten over her, or…?"

The agent directed his gaze back at Brennan. "I'm ready again, but of course with my job, it means I'm limited on how often I can be home, and a girl wants someone she can rely on. Start a family with" - he winked at Brennan - "if that's what she wants. And for the moment, I can't offer any of those things."

Brennan reached for his hand. "Yes you can. I thought I couldn't, but look at me! _Dr Antarctica _- and not only did I find someone who could stand to be around me, and love me, but now I'm carrying his child. How's that; three for the price of one?" She winked. "But love changes people, Clint; I can tell you that from experience."

Clint laughed. "I'll take your word for it. Pity you're taken, though," he chuckled.

Brennan grabbed her cheeks, and squashed her face. "I bet you wouldn't say that now," she muttered through her compressed cheeks and mouth.

Clint vibrated with silent laughter. "I don't know, I think I'd take you out on a date if I could, Picasso."

Brennan's hands dropped. "I'm not Picasso," she corrected him with a furrowed brow.

"Joke, Dr Brennan. It was a joke; you know, how all of Picasso's works a faces that are out of proportion-"

"Oh, I get it!"

Clint rested his head on the table, rumbling with chuckles again.

"You should really stop laughing," Brennan prescribed. "You might need to use the bathroom in a minute."

He looked up at her. "I'm supposed to be the responsible adult, here."

"Clearly." Brennan stood, and went to grab their plates.

"No," Clint halted her. "I got it."

She didn't object. "Is it all right if I have a nap? I'm feeling a little warn out."

"You don't have to ask me when you can and can't sleep, Dr Brennan," Clint called from the kitchen sink.

Brennan smiled, and went to start for the hallway, but she stopped, and looked over her shoulder. "Don't call me Dr Brennan," she requested. "Call me Tempe."

"Sleep well, Tempe."

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

Booth gripped the sides of his head with both hands. Though the action sent a searing fire up his injured forearm, he ignored the pain, and focussed on the document before his eyes.

_Paula Ashwaldt. _

Broadsky's lover - who had committed suicide not long after the Walter Crane murder case. She had been buried in the local cemetery, and her parents had placed flowers again that morning. Now, an hour since, there had been a second bouquet laid.

And Booth had no doubt _whom _by_._

"Knock, knock," Sophia's smooth voice came from the doorway.

"My coffee?" Booth asked, minimising the screen, and rising from his seat.

Sophia dropped her stack of files heavily on his desk. "I'm an agent, Agent Booth. Not your servant."

He shrugged. "_Assistant _is probably a better suited word, and given that I'm not allowed to leave this building unless it's to go to the hospital or my own apartment, I thought we agreed that you would take care of the little necessities-?"

"We never agreed."

"I mean, I'd hate for the office to find you at all disagreeable when you've only been here a week…"

Sophia swallowed hard. "How do you take you coffees?"

Booth scribbled his order on a sheet of paper. "Considering that I'm not allowed to leave the building without you trotting at my heels..."

Sophia took the piece of paper with grace, and a heavy exhale. "Get back to work. The CIA demands results."

"_Demands? _Well, I don't work for the CIA."

"No, but the two companies are working together, which would mean that you are _obliged_ to comply by the wishes of _both_."

Booth sat back again. "Just get my coffee."

Sophia squared her shoulders, and turned.

When Booth found himself watching her full, toned figure strut away from him, a wave of irritation and disgust flooded his stomach.

Sophia agitated the hell out of him - regardless whether she was eye candy, or not. Even though Hodgins had told Booth that he loved Angela to pieces -_ and the agent had absolutely no doubt that he did _- he had said that he still 'admired' other women, as his wife did other men_. _Jack had expressed that always felt like a fat kid that had eaten too much cake, and had skipped their run, when he did _admire _others, though.

When he was sure that she was gone, Booth maximised the page again, and jotted down the location of her grave. Shoving the note in his pocket, he dialled the only number he knew would pick up.

"Cam. I need a favour."

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

"I can't believe I'm breaking you out of _FBI-CIA_ daycare," Cam laughed half-heartedly, when Booth was safely in her car.

He groaned. "They're watching me like a hawk; it's like, 'I'm a little injured, not retarded' - y'know?"

"Seeley, a couple of cracked, bruised rips and flesh wounds makes you a cripple. Of course they're going to think you're not able to competently defend yourself against a sniper-on-the-loose who has a target painted on _your_ head."

"And Bones'," Booth added quietly. "Have you had any word from her?"

Cam shook her head, hands tightening on her steering wheel. It had been a promise that she had been made to keep, when she had gone to Brennan's apartment and selected the necessities listed; because once one person knew, Broadsky knew. It was just something they had all come to live with.

"So the graveyard, huh?" She pressed instead, taking the turn-off to the cemetery.

Booth swallowed loudly. "Jake left flowers there an hour ago."

"Did you bring the vests?"

Booth indicated at the back seat with his thumb. "They're both there. Though, I think yours may be a size too big-"

"That's fine. And I brought my firearm, as you asked."

"Why do you keep it at work anyway?"

"You know me; I have two. One for work, one for home."

Booth chuckled. "Of course…" He trailed off, however, when they pulled up at the public site.

"Do you know where it is?" Cam asked, reaching over for the bag, and tearing open the zip. She picked up a new item of clothing. "What's this?"

"Kelvar caps," Booth answered. "They're…a more discrete form of protection, as opposed to the helmets. They work a treat for snipers that are trying to blow your head off," he added dryly.

Both suited up, and, checking for a clear perimeter first, ventured out.

"Do you know where her grave is?" Cam asked in a low, but level tone.

"Of course."

They only had to walk another hundred metres, before they arrived at the woman's resting place.

Booth knelt before the plaque, and the two bouquets. Taking a latex glove from his pocket, and securing it around his around his hand, he inspected the two bunches.

_To our dearest daughter._

_One month since we laid you to rest._

_Rest in peace._

_Love, _

_Mom and Dad_

Booth inspected the next.

There was no card.

Suddenly, the bunch vibrated, and then trilled. Cautiously, Booth went to retrieve what lay within.

"Stop!"

He spun around.

Sophia and four agents, heavily armed, advance towards him.

Booth directed his stare at Cam. "You told them?" He growled.

"I didn't say a word," she swore.

"She didn't have to," Sophia cut in. "We have both of your cell phones on trackers; which shouldn't come as such a surprise. And, honestly, how long do you think it would have taken me to check your computer history when I realised that you were nowhere within the vicinity?"

"I'm sorry, who is in charge here? Last I checked, _you_ work for _me_," Booth answered sharply.

Sophia shrugged. "Regardless who works for whom - we're supposed to be keeping you out of trouble. You're not supposed to leave the Bureau - unless it's to go to your apartment - and you know it."

"My apologies," Booth muttered with biting sarcasm.

"Don't make this any harder than it needs to be, Agent Booth," Sophia sighed tiredly. "We're only trying to protect you, and your girl."

Booth did not answer, and his silence was saved, when the bunch of flowers echoed with a ringtone again.

"You going to get that?" Cam asked - but it was more so in mockery to the agents, as opposed to her friend.

Booth signalled for the armoured agents presents to scout the area. He bent over, and retrieved the phone.

"Take this down," he asked of Sophia. "Two-four-zero, five-five-five-five, zero-one-eight-seven. Call the carrier, and put a track on this right now."

She did as was instructed.

Booth's trembling thumb went down on the green receiver button.

"Staking out Paula's grave," an even, baritone greeted smoothly on the other end of the line, before Booth could get a word in. "That's kinda cold, Seeley; even for you."

Booth swallowed his fury. "That's kind of funny, coming from you."

Broadsky wasn't moved. "You feel me looking at you?"

Booth's eyes scouted the area. "Just being careful," he replied cooly. "That's all."

Broadsky's dry chuckle vibrated through the line. "Like you were a week ago? And the day after? Right."

"You're a criminal, Jake. Don't be so surprised when you're perfect little world comes crashing down on you."

"Do the math, Seeley. I'm doing good work."

"You kill people," Booth answered swiftly back into the speaker. "No judge, no jury. Just you making the call."

"My conscience is clear - and since you're trying to stop me, you're playing for the wrong team."

"Surely you're beyond threats now."

"Call it self-preservation, if you will, but I call it self-defence. Sometimes, that means a very aggressive offence."

"You've killed fifty people in the last week, Jacob. How much aggression can you exert before it consumes you?"

Again, the deep, confident chuckled travelled through the mobile. "What makes you think that it's _only_ me?"

For a moment, Booth had no answer. "Who else is involved, Jacob?"

Broadsky _humphed_ with self-satisfaction. "Think about, Seeley. You have all the resources. Or, better still, ask your girl."

Fury boiled in Booth's stomach. "Temperance doesn't know anything."

"How can you be so sure?" He paused - presumably for effect. "How long was it before she told you that she'd been receiving the text messages? Before she told you she was_ pregnant?_ If she could keep something like _that_ from you, what else do you think she could do?"

"That's a low blow - even for you," Booth answered, forcing a calmer tone. "Do you forget who you're dealing with here, Jacob?"

"Not for a moment," he replied with cold menace. "And don't you forget; you'll never see the bullet that takes you down. And you'd do well to remember, that it may not be mine."

The line cut off into a single dial tone.

* * *

><p><strong>who is Jake working with? what do you think of the new characters? - please review, you know i love 'em!<br>**

**thanks for reading x  
><strong>

**[i do apologise for any grammatical errors this chapter, and the last - i generally only have time to skim through before i post, so please forgive me!]  
><strong>


	37. Part II: The Ties That Blind

**We're on the homerun leg of this story kids, but buckle your seats belts - we're about to hit a bit of turbulence. R&R please. [Thank you to last chapter's reviewers - I PM'd you! :) ]**

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><p><strong>37. The Ties That Blind<strong>

* * *

><p>"He outright admitted to me that he's not the only one in this!" Booth shouted, clenching his good fist. "How much clearer do you want me to make this to you?"<p>

Andrew Hacker stared at the ground, and shook his head. "There's no good in simply _knowing_ something, Agent Booth, if you can't prove it."

"But we have the proof," he argued. "I can quote every word of that phone call."

Hacker shot him a look of reproach, and so Booth backtracked. "Regardless, the message was pretty clear," he finalised.

Hacker took a seat at his desk. "I can't provide any more funding without quantifiable evidence."

"Andrew-"

"Director Hacker, Agent Booth."

"_Assistant_ Director Hacker - you've got my hands tied. We need the funding, okay? This case is huge. It's our primary focus-" Booth halted when he was interrupted.

"Our primary focus? No - _your_ primary focus." Beneath the calm of Hacker's expression, lay a smirk that Booth wanted to burn out.

"-The CIA are involved - are you really going to brush this off?"

"Brush this off? Hardly. We can't afford it."

"Bullshit."

"I can try discussing it with my superiors-"

_As if you would even lift a finger on the matter, you son of a bitch, _Booth thought bitterly. Despite his thoughts, he managed a curt, "Then do."

A loud rap interrupted what was about to become an extremely heated stalemate.

"Sir?"

Hacker stiffened - and Booth supposed he wasn't only standing to attention_ above _the table.

"Sophia," Hacker managed, with a begotten smile.

Booth gagged.

The dark red-haired woman tossed her wavy locks disapprovingly. "Agent Rogers, Assistant Director," she corrected him, with a hard eye. "Let's not make the situation uncomfortable with informalities."

Hacker's grin fell.

Booth felt a bubble of self-satisfaction within. "Did you come to see me, Rogers?" He asked smoothly, eyes glinting with the smugness he would not allow his lips to portray.

"As in fact, I did Sir. Your car is waiting to take you home."

Booth stood. "You're not driving?"

Sophia eyed Hacker - with no particular interest, more so, as if he were a blunt object on display. "I have errands to attend to. But if you'll come this way, I need to get a few documents from you first." She motioned towards the door.

"Goodbye, Agent Booth," came Hacker's somewhat dry voice.

Booth lifted half of his mouth in a wry smile. "Always a pleasure, Andrew."

Following Sophia out into the hall, he was surprised when she broke out into soft laughter . "He really hates you," she said breathlessly, answering Booth's unspoken question. "What did you do; kill his favourite cat?"

"I took his girl," Booth answered simply. "Although…technically _he_ took her from _me_, so…I don't know why he has the right to be pissed."

"Ah."

They arrived at the lift, and Sophia punched the request button.

"What do you mean '_ah'_?" Booth derived.

"What does 'ah' ever mean? It's a fill-in response. I don't know either of you three well enough to be the judge of the dynamics of your relationship."

"But?"

She smiled. "But I seen enough classic love triangles to know that someone always comes out the loser."

"_Hacker_," Booth coughed indiscreetly, winking at his fellow agent.

"Always the charmer, aren't you?" Sophia acclaimed.

Booth rolled his shoulders - concealing a wince. "I try my best."

"Obviously."

They arrived at Booth's office.

"Get your things," Sophia instructed, checking her wristwatch. "You have five minutes."

After only two, Booth joined her again with a satchel of papers, and followed her down on through to the car park.

Watching him off as an agent took him away, Sophia retrieved her phone, and hit the first number.

_"Sophia,"_ a smooth male voice greeted.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" She asked into the receiver, without any greeting.

Clint sighed over the other end of the line. _"The Agency says this is the only way to bring the both of them out."_

Sophia bit her lip. "It's potentially dangerous, Clint, and the FBI doesn't know that there are _certainly_ two people working on this case. We haven't told them yet-"

_"Sophia."_

She drew a deep breath. "Okay. They're driving him out now."

_"Thank you, Agent Rogers."_

Sophia ended the call.

She liked Booth; and she really hoped that the operation would pull through - because a lesson that she had come to learn in her field of work, was that, in fishing...it never worked out so well for the bait.

.

- B&B -

.

"Who was that?" Brennan asked from her place on the couch, when Clint stowed away his phone.

He strolled over, and flopped down on the sofa, lifting Brennan's legs and putting them on his lap.

"The Boss," he replied nonchalantly - a hint of humour dancing across his eyes. After all, it wasn't a lie. In all the time that he had known Sophia, her strong personality dictated everything - from assignments, to the restaurant they dined at for lunch, or to which clothing stores his closet was stocked from.

Brennan - as if reading where his train of thoughts were headed, innocently asked, "So what's the deal with you and Sophia?"

Clint frowned. "The _'deal'?_ What about Sophia?"

"It was her that you were talking to, wasn't it?"

"But you said you didn't know who I was talking to...?"

"I never said that I didn't know; I just asked who you were talking to," Brennan corrected him simply, smiling contentedly. "Then, you just confirmed my suspicions, so…"

Clint shook his head. "And you wonder why there's are target painted on your forehead," he sighed. "You're almost too smart for you own good."

Taken aback a little, Brennan defended herself with, "I tricked you; anyone can pull a party trick." She tucked her legs away from beneath his hands.

Clint grinned, complimenting her. "Not everyone."

Brennan then sighed, allowing the conversation to close, and a new one to develop. "When can I go outside?" She asked. "I'm desperate for some fresh air."

Clint pointed to a window.

"No," Brennan chided. "You know what I meant."

Clint groaned in good-nature. "Oh, I s'pose I could take you for a play outside," he teased. "Come on."

The crisp, cool air of the atmosphere outside was a welcoming sensation, and Brennan relished as the sun's warmth was soaked up by her pores. "And for almost a week, this is what you've deprived me from?" She called out to Clint, whose eyes were glued to the screen of his _iPhone_. "Clint?" She pressed, when she received no response.

He finally looked up. "I have to take a phone call. Stay where you are," he made her promise.

She rolled her eyes. "Do I look like an intolerable five-year-old to you?"

"Yes," he answered shortly, lifting his phone to his ear. "I'm serious, Temperance. I'll just be around the corner."

"Secret stuff?" She probed.

"Yeah," he answered distantly, walking off. "Something like that."

Though he was moving out of earshot, Brennan heard him greet the director of the CIA, and then she could pick up no more. Taking a seat on the steps of the house, she closed her eyes, and placed her hand on her womb, allowing herself to drift away into a place just below conscious.

.

- B&B-

.

"Where are you taking me?" Booth demanded, craning his neck to see through the tinted windows.

His driver stared ahead, emotionlessly. "I told you - we're making sure that you're safe."

"Bull shit you are," Booth fired back, reaching for the latch of his seatbelt.

"What are you going to do?" The quizzed tiredly. "Jump out of a moving vehicle?"

Booth glared at the road ahead in silence.

The agent took a hand off the steering wheel. "I'm from the CIA - I'm a friend of Sophia's. Broadsky put a hit on you, and we're getting you out. Our servers detected movement in on you, and Dr Brennan."

"But how did he get past you guys? The Jeffersonian has the cell phone he left me at the cemetery."

"Which is exactly where we want it; we needed to separate the lock, from the key."

"Turn around!" Booth ordered. "Now! Giving the phone to them may have ensured my safety, but it sure as hell has jeopardized theirs!"

"No, sir. I'm just _following_ orders, but you don't give them."

Booth pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Don't try," the agent halted him. "It's been disconnected."

Booth threw it down. "I need to warn them."

"I'm sorry, but you can't do that without giving away our location."

"What the hell-?"

"We had to remove you from the equation. I'm sorry, but neither you, or any information or evidence you have against Jacob Broadsky is safe in the hands of the FBI."

_"Why?"_

"Because you've been compromised!" The agent fired back. "Someone in the Bureau is working with Jacob. Someone on the inside, who has access to all of the information - to Dr Brennan's location, to the files…resources. You name it. Jacob Broadsky has someone in on his operation, and it sure as hell ain't the Tooth Fairy. I mean, I can turn around, and we can go back and warn your friends, or I can keep on driving, and you can safe your girlfriend. Though the choice isn't really yours, I'm decent enough to give you the ultimatum."

Booth felt his body - an empty shell - collapse against the passenger seat. He already knew what his choice was going to be, before any of this had happened. Before everything. It was Brennan, and it was always going to be, Brennan. "Where is Temperance?" He asked, sealing the deal.

"She's with an agent - he was just on the line to another, informing and discussing the current situation."

"How do you know that it's someone from the FBI?"

"Is it really not that simple to you? How did Jacob Broadsky stay off the grid so easily after he assassinated Public Enemy Number One? How do you think he was able to get the addresses, and phone numbers, and security codes and just about every other piece of information he needed?"

Booth sat in sick silence. "I know who it is," he finally managed, meeting the agent's stern eyes. "Pedal on the gas, now!"

.

- B&B -

.

Though it had only been a couple of minutes since she had closed her eyes, what felt like years later, Brennan woke with a start to the sound of tyres churning gravel. Shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun, she stared up to the sleek, black bulge of an S.U.V.

The window buzzed down, and a frantic face peered out.

"Get in," Andrew Hacker ordered. "I have to take you to another location. You've been found!"

Brennan's eyes swept back towards the front door. "My things-"

He slipped out of the car with haste, and went around to the passenger door. "Agents will collect them for you. Quickly, Temperance!" He held her side open for her. "Every moment more you spend here, is putting you in even graver danger."

She jumped in. "Where are you taking me?" She asked, as the tires screeched on the gravel road during it's turning circle. Clint, she thought in a panic, peering out the window as best she could. His solid figure was bounding after their car, but the attempt was in vain.

Though he didn't answer her question until they were out on the bitumen road, when he finally did, it didn't take much for her to comprehend.

"To a place where they can't find you," Hacker told her.

Brennan exhaled sharply, and a sick fear melted into her whole being. "Stop the car!" She shouted. "Pull over _now_!"

Hacker pulled a white handkerchief from his blazer pocket, and pressed it to Brennan's face.

Fighting with every cell her body against inhaling the chloroform, eventually, she had no choice but to deliver her desperate lungs.

Everything faded.

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><p><strong>Ultimatums, corruptions...kidnappings - it's the homewards gallop, and I'll bring out all the big guns! Tell me what you think, please :) I'll update asap. <strong>

**And MERRY CHRISTMAS MY LOVELIES! Enjoy the day with your families! xx  
><strong>


	38. Part II:To Kill Two Birds With One Stone

**Hey hey! Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas! **I hope you like this - it took me a while! :) R&R please.**  
><strong>

**WARNING: There is coarse language in this chapter, but given the characterisation of the characters...it's necessary. I apologise if it offends anyone! :S And it also 'jumps' [between characters] and awful lot, but it was the only way I could do it justice!**

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><p><strong>38. To Kill Two Birds with One Stone<strong>

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><p>A gust of steam blew into Brennan's face, shocking her back into the physical world.<p>

Eyes blurred from their time spent closed, the only prominent detail that occurred to her was the presence of metal - rusted, bold and thick. With each moment that she regained consciousness, she absorbed her surroundings - and her brain registered thick pipes, and a high, shabby ceiling.

"Thank God," Hacker grunted, yanking her away from the ventilation system. "I was beginning to think I'd made you O.D. on that stuff."

Brennan coughed, and a strong substance drifted into her nostrils, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. "What the hell is wrong with you?" She muttered drowsily, trying to sit up. "Andrew, we're friends-"

"_We_re," he cut her off, rolling over the word, eyes hardening.

After a long moment, the rest of the chips fell into place. "You're _it_," Brennan choked, the brilliant nerves of her brain gaining over her sleepiness. "You're his lap-dog."

"Lap-dog, or partner in crime?"

"But..._why_?"

Hacker put his thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat. "You didn't honestly think Jacob's resources were_ that_ good, did you? All the man can do is fire a gun."

"He's been off the grid, because you've been clearing him off the database whenever he popped up," Brennan surmised in a hard tone, chest tightening.

From one of his pockets, Hacker retrieved a fire lighter. Flipping it's cap open, he chuckled. "Party trick, that; making him the invisible man. Making sure he was able to get to you, and Booth. Coming to think of it - the whole process was pretty damn easy. And you helped, so thank you, so very much."

Brennan swallowed hard. "How-?"

Hacker rolled his eyes. "Who do you think hacked into the FBI's database to give Jacob your location when you hid at your father's? Obvious, stupid choice, by the way. Really, pathetic. And it was only too easy to find the location of your safe house - I mean, really? Two passwords was all it took. And hey - to them, I'm the good guy! If the Deputy Director of the FBI wants to know something, the information is his."

Brennan shoulders drooped. "And my mobile number isn't on my file, for celebrity-status privacy reasons, but that wasn't an issue for you, was it? You still had it from before I went to the Maluku Islands."

He strolled over to Brennan, and stroked away her fringe. "Broken-hearted, I was, the day you told me you were going overseas and wanted to end what we had."

Repulsed by his touch, she tried to lean away as best she could, ribcage rising and falling as her pulse increased. Her stomach dropped. "You were the person texting me," she verbalised, eyes widening in horror. "You were _playing_ with me! You sick, bastard-"

Hacker cut her off, his finger pressing against her lips with all the pressure of an iron rod. "Shh, now. I'd hate for our last moments together to be spent in anger."

"I hate you," Brennan hissed through her teeth. "I _hate_ you. I wouldn't even do you the justice of being civil."

"That sounds like the beginning of a love story madam, not the end of one." He leaned so close, that she could taste the stale, burnt-sugar odour of his breath. "If you'd just chosen the right guy, none of this would have happened to could have been great together."

"Never, we were a bad match," Brennan snarled, as his lips almost touched hers. "What we had wasn't real. You were nothing more than a consolation prize to me." She spat in his face.

He sprawled backwards, wiping away her saliva. His eye's darkened. "You bitch-"

"Enough, Andrew," came a low, steady voice.

Brennan's heart pounded in absolute fear.

.

**-B&B-**

.

The car had barely stopped, when Booth stumbled out of it. "Where is she?" He yelled, moving towards the steps, where a crowd of CIA agents conversed seriously.

The leader raised a hand to silence the group, though Booth saw it tremble for the time it spent in the air.

"Clint Morsell," the man introduced. "I was the agent assigned to Dr Temperance Brennan."

"_Wa_s?" Booth shouted. "Was? Where is she?"

Clint looked around to his colleagues, and then back to the FBI agent. "She's been taken hostage by Jacob Broadsky, and FBI Deputy Director Andrew Hacker."

"Hacker…" Booth processed, eyes on the ground, balance wavering. In a second, his eyes were on Clint, bright with fury. "You let them take her?" He shouted.

"Agent Booth, please, try to stay calm. Dr Brennan is wearing a tracker. It's implanted in the clothing she is wearing. The CIA slipped it to her, so she has no idea. They couldn't know about it; we can find her."

"Then how does that help?" Booth demanded. "How does that…," he repeated feverishly, inconsolably. "How does that help?" He turned, and kicked the ground, clawing a hand through his hair. "She doesn't know! She doesn't know that you guys are coming to get her. How does that_help_?"

"We have agents on the road, and in the air, Agent Booth," Clint answered evenly. "And a helicopter is coming in for us, with a SWAT team."

As if on cue, the deafening chopping of blades slicing thin air crescendoed, until the machine was in view. And then it disappeared.

"Where is it?" Booth's eyes strained through the dense forage.

"On the roadside; there's no safe landing for a chopper in here," Clint explained, moving towards an SUV. "Are you coming?"

Booth was back in the car, faster than he had exited it.

**.**

**- B&B - **

**.**

Jacob Broadsky entered the room.

"You weren't going to burn her, were you Andrew?" He cocked his head sideways, as if he were laughing at his own joke. "Stupid man, I don't do torture." He advanced towards Brennan, and stopped a metre before her.

_He absolutely does,_ Brennan thought fearfully, discretely sniffing her shirt.

_Petrol._

"You monster!" Brennan screeched out to Hacker. "You were going to_ burn_ me alive?"

"Tell us where your man is," the Director ordered.

Broadsky turned. "Shut up. She isn't here to be interrogated, or tortured you fucking retard. She's bait."

"Then why haven't you shot her yet?" Hacker asked, visibly offended by his master's words of discourage.

Jacob reached out to Brennan, and lifted her chin with his index finger. "Haven't you learnt? Fish only go for live bait."

"But Booth would want to avenge her death if you killed-"

Jacob turned. "I think you need to learn very quickly that you're a nuisance, and I that don't _need_ you anymore. Consider how much your life is of value to me."

Hacker backed away into the corner of the room.

"Although," Jake pondered quietly. "It's only a matter of time before he learns what happened to that damned boy a the lab. That was supposed to _his_ body. I really don't like having to resort to _Plan B's_."

Brennan's heart leapt. "What do you mean, 'boy at the lab'?"

Jacob shook his head. "Well darlin' - I thought I took out Booth at your lab, but it turns out the kid I actually hit was a decoy," he laughed - though the dark humour did not reach his eyes. "Andrew here, informed me that I'd hit the wrong guy, right before he picked you up. He then sent me here - and it makes sense, right? Abandoned cement factories always make the best hostage centres. Such a damn cliche - I mean, it won't take too for Seeley to figure it out - but they're a maze, these kinds of places."

"Booth's smart," Brennan warned. "You're a fool if you think you're going to win."

"Am I?" Broadsky contradicted, eyes narrowing. "I think every thing's worked out pretty well so far. And Andrew has ensured that I have 'friends'. So, if something goes badly here - you'd do well to remember that you're not the only person Booth's close to. Even in my death, my _friends_, have their orders."

Brennan's whole body ached sickeningly. "Parker," she whispered, eyes full.

Broadsky grimaced. "It will be painless, never you mind."

"Don't touch him," Brennan screeched very suddenly, struggling against her ties as the two men regained their composure from her outburst. "Don't you dare go near him!"

"Oh, I won't be, remember? Friends?" Broadsky, catching her course of action as he turned to face her again, retrieved a handgun from his waist.

Freezing, in the act, her eyes widened fearfully when she saw the weapon. "Please don't," she begged, tears seeping from the corners of her eyes. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Brennan thought she caught a flash of remorse on Hacker's face, from where he stood in the corner of the room.

"Well then," Jacob resolved, his index finger caressing the trigger. "I suppose it would kind be like killing two birds with one stone, wouldn't it?"

"You're a predatory man. A hunter," Brennan blurted, swallowing - a last, feeble attempt. "So how are you satisfying the monster in you, that yearns for the _hunt_? By killing us now, what will you achieve?"

Jacob smiled tightly. "Dr Brennan - you're mistaken. You're not the primary objective; by killing you, I'm drawing Booth out. You're only what's known as collateral damage, sweet-heart." He advanced towards her. "Don't take it personally."

Chest heaving in fear, Brennan closed her eyes.

_I'm so sorry, _she thought to the growing child in her womb. I_'m so sorry, my little darling._

"Stop!" Hacker suddenly yelled.

Broadsky whirled around, and pointed his revolver at the man.

Hacker put his hands up in defence. "_Listen_," he explained urgently, eyes pleading with the sniper.

Broadksy froze.

**.**

**- B&B -**

**.**

"And you're sure this is it?" Booth demanded, reaching for a vest.

Clint restricted him. "You stay here."

Booth gripped his arm. "You don't get to make that call," he hissed through his teeth. "Let me suit up."

"I'm afraid that isn't up to you," Clint apologised. "I'm just following orders."

"No, you _give _the orders. Don't give me that crap. I helped you get to _this_ conclusion - I have to be the one to take him out."

"I'm sorry Booth - that can't happen. We can't put your life at risk." Clint fastened his vest, and took his weapon. "The agents here will ensure that you stay safe."

Booth looked at the two pilots. Both men stared ahead, their expressions unfathomable through their goggles and helmets.

Fuming beneath the surface, Booth was left standing beneath the shelter of the helicopter pilots, as the team of men disappeared into the cement factory.

Running alongside the SWAT team, Clint felt remorse for forcing Booth to stay behind; though that had been the plan all along, guilt plagued his conscience. If it were him, and he could have made a difference when his loved one faced death…he would have.

"Nothing, Sir," one of the SWAT members reported, after scouting a nearby control room.

Clint motioned forward with a jerking point of his hand. "Move on."

A hundred metres on, the men came to a halt at an iron door - which, sure enough, was locked, or at least barricaded - and behind it, there was rustling.

"Do we detonate the door, Sir?" The same SWAT member asked, reaching for the appropriate equipment.

Clint, very reluctantly, shook his head. "We don't know how close Dr Brennan is to that door - we can't risk hurting her."

"We have thermal imaging, Sir. It won't give us an accurate distance, but it can tell us if she's close," the other man reasoned with him.

"Then do it," Clint hissed quietly, as his phone buzzed. He lifted the device to his ear. "Morsell."

"Clint," Sophia answered, her voice trembling - though not with fear; it sounded as though she were on the move. "It me. Rebecca Stinson and her son were moved into Agency custody as you asked."

_"_Thank you, Soph. Take care - we'll hopefully have this tied up in a minute."

She laughed softly on the other end of the line. "Yeah, take care." She cut the line.

The SWAT member - _Clint's right-hand man_ - now shook his arm. "I can't guarantee a clean hit, but the blast won't kill anyone," he informed.

Clint nodded. "Blow the door."

As two men fixed the device, the rest stood back and waited.

Moments later, when the men had joined them, the door's latch gave way.

"Move!" Clint gave the order, and when they did as told, followed in.

"Jacob Broadsky!" He boomed. "Put your weapon down, we have you surrounded!"

"Ah, and at last, here he is. Though you're not the one I'm after, I'm sure I could settle for your blood, whilst I'm here."

Clint tightened his grip on his weapon. "So confident you're going to get away, Jacob? Why would you out-right confess something like that, to me. You don't _know,_ who I am?"

Jacob laughed. "You think I'm stupid, Agent Morsell?" He turned his handgun on Hacker. "You think I don't _know_ who you are?"

Clint said nothing.

"You lost your place with FBI because your partner died on _your_ watch," Jacob continued, taking the man's silence for a response. "A car accident, wasn't it? Behind _your_ wheel?"

"Clint," Brennan managed in a broken whisper, comprehending. "Oh no."

"It wasn't my fault," Clint answered, his expression unfathomable as his tone was. "I couldn't have changed what happened that day, and the FBI understood."

"You keep on telling youself that. But, my guess, is that you wouldn't let another die under your watch again," Broadsky tormented, index finger tightening around the trigger. "I'll do you a favour; save you a bullet. You leave now, and this man lives to see another day - he goes to prison, and you feel good about it on the inside, knowing that he serves his time. If you think that isn't a good idea…then I kill Dr Brennan here." He pulled a lighter carefully from his pocket. "She goes up in flames. Or you let me get away, and everybody lives. Your choice."

Clint's face was a mask of menace. "I vote for none of the above," he answered coolly. "You're surrounded, and desperate. You're pulling ultimatums out of thin air, that you have no more of. Enough of the hollow threats."

Broadsky smirked. "Now let's be serious." His handgun was directed at Hacker again.

And he pulled the trigger.

In a moment, that seemed to stand still - the bullet was delivered, and the room went from having thirteen lives in it, to twelve.

Brennan stifled a choke of horror.

Thick, red crimson leaked from the late Andrew Hacker's head, as his lifeless body drowned in itself.

Jacob concluded with, "When have I ever made a threat that I didn't follow through with?" But almost as soon as he stopped talking, he himself, jerked, and in a blur of a screech of agony, her met the floor with a thud, clutching his calf.

All eyes lifted to a platform above, where two figures stood; one, with an M16 assault rifle in hand, the other, with her arms folded across her chest.

"Sophia," Clint breathed - in a tone that suggested he couldn't decide whether to be angry, or relieved.

"Booth," Brennan murmured tearfully.

Jacob turned his glance up to his assailant. "Traditional!" He barked. "Going for high ground. I should have expected so much, Seeley."

"You said it yourself, Jacob," Booth called down to him, taking the stairs. "And I quote," he continued through his teeth, as he approached him. '_You'll never see the bullet that takes you down_'." He moved in on Jacob, and pressed his foot into the bullet wound. "Pay back's a bitch, ain't it?"

Jacob smirked. "You lose," he spat, laughing sadistically. "Either way, you lose."

Booth looked towards the other men present.

But it was Brennan that answered in desperation, "Booth, it isn't over-"

Two SWAT members took up Jacob, so that Booth could untie her.

"It's okay baby, it's all done-"

"No, Booth," she coughed, face forlorn with anguish. "He's put a hit on Parker."

* * *

><p><strong>Yay! Ding-dong the bitch is dead - well, not quite [still among the living] - but what of Parker?! We're getting very close now - what do you think lovelies? Let me know! Please, don't read and run! Thank you to all that favfollowed/review last chapter - I love you guys, and I got back to everyone that left me message last chapter [with PM activated] xx**

**I'll update asap. xx HAPPY NEW YEAR! :D**


	39. Part II: Hands and Eyes

**So here we are; the last official chapter before the epilogue :O I really hope that you enjoy it, and cyber-hugs go out for you, my readers, I adore you all so much and I'm so grateful to have you. Please R&R, lovelies!**

* * *

><p><strong>39. Hands and Eyes<strong>

* * *

><p>"Parker and his mother are safe," Clint announced loudly, amidst the shouts of Booth.<p>

The FBI agent stopped in his tracks. "Safe?"

"They've been taken to the CIA's home base," he explained calmly.

"I was in charge of the whole exchange," Sophia supported. "They're safe, Booth. It was Clint that I was on the phone to, when we were running. I was letting him know that I'd had word from the Agency."

Booth allowed the new information to sink in. "He's safe?"

"Yes."

"A sniper can't get to them?"

"They're underground. They're going to be alright."

Suddenly Broadsky spoke up, his voice bitterly smug. "What makes you think that I have a sniper on them?"

Booth's eyes swept to Brennan's in panic, and then back to Jacob's in a harsh glare. "Don't bluff. You're just making it worse for yourself."

Broadsky laughed. "How can you be so sure? I turned the Deputy Director of the FBI, and had him cleaning my slate for months. You ass-clowns can believe what you like, but my guys have their orders."

Booth raised his rifle on Jacob, resting the weapon on his sore wrist, holding the trigger with his good hand.

"Booth!" Brennan warned, in a yell.

"Not now, Bones!"

"Booth, stop it!" She persisted, voice sharp, and urgent. "If you kill him, you'll never know who's after Parker. You can't get anything out of a corpse."

For a moment, it seemed as though he was going to pull the trigger, but then he relaxed his aim. "Get me to your headquarters, now!"

**.**

**- ~ B&B ~ -**

**.**

Brennan felt Booth's tension vibrating through his body to hers. Every so often, he would squeeze her fingers - whether it was to assure her of his presence, out of nerves, or whether it had just become routine after every five minute interval, she had become numb to the action after the gesture became consistent.

On several occasions, during the helicopter flight, she had thought to say something - and had hoped that he would speak to her, enquire after her - but his face was a pale mask of distress, and she could feel the cool fever burning through his skin, as his weak body fought to keep his system running. Conversation of any sort wasn't going to be possible, until Parker was in his father's arms.

"_Five minutes out_," one of the pilots informed, and his words sounded universally through the headphones they all wore.

Brennan caressed the saddle of his hand with her thumb. To her surprise, his head leant towards hers, and he pressed his lips against her cheek, while the other agents in the helicopter pretended not to notice.

The remaining five minutes of the flight were some of the longest Brennan had lived through in her life - it felt as though they were all instruments in a ticking time bomb. The whole atmosphere of the aircraft generated an unsettled, thick feeling.

And then they touched down.

"You stay behind me, and between the SWAT agents at all times," Clint ordered. "Is that clear?"

Booth barely nodded.

Moving through security in no time, they were then guided to a lift, which took them down a few floors. When the doors opened at the bottom, Clint's words went unheeded, when Booth heard his son.

"Dad!" Parker yelled, loping towards his father. "Daddy!"

Booth broke free from the barricade of agents, and ran, sweeping his son up in his arms. "I'm here. It's okay. We're okay."

"Mom said you were in hospital, Dad. She told me about your accident," Parker pulled back from his father's embrace, so that he could meet his gaze.

It was at that moment, that Booth was struck by the maturity of the ten year-old boy before him. There was something…older, about him - the way he held his chin, the directness of his stare. With a sickening ache, Booth realised that his little boy had grown in leaps and bounds, when he hadn't been looking.

"Dad?" Parker pressed, shaking his father from his train of thought.

Bending to his height, Booth placed his good hand on the boy's shoulder. "When'd you get so big, huh?" He tousled Parker's caramel hair.

"I can see that you're hurt Dad," Parker halted him indignantly, taking the injured hand in his own, which was a bit more half the size. "I'm not little anymore. You can't just distract me. Tell me what's going on!"

Submitting, Booth sighed and nodded once. "Okay." His eyes lifted from his son's for a moment, and sought out Brennan's.

She smiled softly in support.

Booth guided Parker away a few steps, to some seating against the wall.

When he began to explain an edited summary of the past couple of weeks, Brennan turned away, and much to her own surprise, almost toppled over Rebecca.

"I'm sorry," the blonde apologised, when she realised how startled she had made Brennan.

"It's fine," she answered, taking a wary step back.

"You look like you've been through hell," Rebecca commented, unintentionally insensitive.

Brennan's eyebrows jutted skywards. "Well, captivity can do that to you." She looked over her shoulder to Booth, but when she went to converse with Rebecca again, a sharp pain targeted her abdomen.

"Temperance?" Rebecca grabbed her arm, steadying her.

Booth's head shot up, and he was at her side in an instant, Parker at his heels.

"Bones?" His frantic voice forced her to open her eyes.

Face pale with agony, she reached for his hand. "Can you get me out of here?" She coughed lowly, her facing pinching as another contraction ruptured through her body.

"We can't leave," Rebecca panicked, looking to the agents. "You told us so-"

"If you're all in the same place, we can keep you protected," Sophia reasoned, approaching the group, and halting beside Clint.

Clint agreed with her. "And," he added, "our servers are hacking into Andrew Hacker's computers, phone records and any other necessary files to find out who Broadsky has on his side. Jacob spilled, and he told us that answer lies with Hacker."

"Then why aren't you moving?" Booth snarled, his arm around Brennan's waist.

**- B&B -**

Brennan had been in the hospital room with a doctor for nearly an hour, when Booth was approached in the hallway - though to his dismay, not by a professional who could tell him anything. He'd been allowed with her when they'd first entered the hospital - when they'd informed them that it was not real contractions, but in fact ones that were 'testing' Brennan's body - that was how Booth understood it, anyway. He drained his paper cup of coffee, and tossed it in the nearest bin.

Rebecca stopped in front of him. "How is she?"

Booth shook his head. "She's still in with the specialist. They thought it best that I gave them space - I mean, I told them that I didn't want to leave..."

"But it's their way, or the highway, right?"

"Yeah."

She pulled him aside, tossing a cup of her own in the bin also. "I need to talk to you. And I know that this isn't the best time, but you need to know."

"Bec, I need to be waiting for-"

"Temperance is being consulted by a doctor," she reasoned. "And you really need to hear what I have to say."

Booth bit his lip, the frustration evident on his face.

Rebecca sighed. "We're moving to London, Seeley."

Booth's face paled, and his bottom lip dropped an inch. "No you're not...what? No, I don't want you to do that-"

She put a hand on his arm. "I'm not asking," she revealed gently. "I'm telling you; this is what's going to happen, and I think that it's for the best."

Booth shook it off. "How is it for the best? You're taking my son away from me; he's the primary reason I came back from Afghanistan, Rebecca. You can't take him away-"

"I'm not _taking_ him away from you. We're just moving - I got offered a really, really good job for the next annum. Parker will go to a private school," she elaborated, wringing her hands. "This will be good for us. And I want to go, Seeley. So does Parker."

"Have you even asked him?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He wants to go too, only, he didn't say anything to you because he was afraid of how you would react," Rebecca explained quietly. "And the move wouldn't happen for three months, and we might even be back in a couple of years, if we want to."

Booth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I've put it off for far too long, and it wasn't as if I was going to jump it on you the day we were leaving."

"Don't be dramatic, I know you wouldn't have done that; I mean, why now? In the hospital, after everything?"

Rebecca placed a hand on his arm. "You're a resilient person, Seeley. You do well with taking a big hit all at once, because you bounce back. Broadsky in jail…his people getting caught as we speak, and your pregnant partner rejuvenating in a bed down the hall - you're dealing with it all right now. At least by telling you this now...you can process it along with everything else that's happening. Am I making sense?"

Submitting, Booth nodded silently - although her speech hadn't really made much sense at all - and began walking towards Brennan's room again.

"Dad?" Parker's tentative voice called from behind. "Do you hate me?"

Booth turned, and smiled sadly, gently. "No."

"But you just fought with mom," Parker pointed out.

"I don't want you to go away, Parks," his father explained. "And I'm going to miss you like crazy…because, really, I only just got you back, in a sense. But I can't be selfish with you." He moved towards him, and embraced him tightly. "You deserve to experience every opportunity you want to have, Parks."

It was Parker who pulled back. "Dad, why's Bones so sick?"

From the corner of his eye, Booth spied a flash of green.

Scrubs.

And the man that wore them, cleared his throat. "Dr Brennan is ready for you, Agent Booth," he informed. "The ultrasound machine has been set up."

Booth thanked the man, and turned back to his son. "Why don't you come an ask her yourself?"

Eagerly, Parker followed his father into the room, where Brennan smiled up at them from her place in the bed. Booth leant forward and kissed her lightly on the lips, then stepping back so the nurse could apply the gel to Brennan's womb.

Parker comprehended.

"You're having a baby?" He gasped, his delayed reaction making his surprise and glee all the more magnified.

Brennan smiled. "Yes."

Parker watched as the woman pressed a piece of equipment to her belly, and then the green-blue screen of the television began to display a picture.

"You're going to be a big brother," Booth confirmed, reaching for Brennan's hand, and closing his fingers around it.

"How many weeks?" Brennan asked, as Parker excitedly threw questions of his own at Booth.

The nurse studied the screen. "I'd say you're about eight to ten weeks."

Brennan exhaled slowly. "How did I miss that?"

"You have been under a lot of stress lately, yes?" The nurse assumed.

Brennan confirmed her obvious suspicion, by nodding.

"Your body can easily play tricks on you," she answered. "And it could have been easy to miss, given that the doctor informs me that this is your first pregnancy."

At that moment, Parker stepped forward and planted a swift peck on Brennan's cheek. "I'm really happy for you and my Dad, Bones."

She rubbed his arm. "Thank you, darling."

"Mom's taking me home now, but I'll be at Dad's this weekend - will you be there?"

For a split second, Brennan looked to Booth in panic.

"The CIA and FBI caught the man that Hacker had employed," Rebecca answered from the door.

"There was only one man?" Booth wondered. "But Jacob said 'men' - _plura_l."

"There was only one," Rebecca confirmed. "He was bluffing you guys." She turned a hard eye on Booth. "You should know that," she teased, eyes softening. "The profound gambler."

The nurse rose an eyebrow.

"Not anymore," he defended, shaking his head at her.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "I'll take your word for it." She extended her hand. "Come on champ, you have that writing project due tomorrow, and you haven't even started."

"I know what I'm going to write it on," he twittered excitedly, but halted before the door, suddenly remembering something that he needed to do. Running back, Parker wrapped his arms around his father. "I love you Dad."

Booth closed his eyes, savouring the moment. "I know you do. I love you, Parker."

With that , he was gone.

Brennan's nurse cleared her throat. "Would you like me to print some photographs, or would you prefer a tape?"

Brennan gazed up at Booth, as he took his place by her side. "Are we allowed both?"

The woman smiled kindly. "You can have whatever you want."

Booth slipped fingers through Brennan's, and they shared a smile.

"Both, please," he reaffirmed.

* * *

><p><strong>So much fluffiness :P What do think? Yes, this is the last 'official' chapter, but there will be an epilogue :) Please don't hesitate to suggests prompts for what that final chapter should include - I would be thrilled to hear what you, the readers, would like to hear best! Lots of love xx<strong>


	40. Author's Note

I know that this is not the update that you guys wanted or deserved, but to be honest I felt incredibly guilty leaving you hanging when I just had absolutely no idea how I was going to finish this.

To be absolutely honest I haven't watched a lot of Bones all year, and as a result, feared that if I came back to this story many would be upset that I was no longer true to what the characters have become in the show - and I absolutely didn't want that to happen to this story, where I have endeavoured to embrace these characters with their personalities in tact. This fiction has very obviously been on the biggest of all hiatuses, and this year has just been a roller-coaster for me so I can't determine when I'll properly finish it off for you all with the Epilogue, as I'd originally intended.

For now, though, I would just like to thank so much, every single one of you for following this story, and being there for me - it was my first fiction, and it's surreal that I basically started this story three years ago. It has been a wonderful writing foothold and learning curve for me - and I cannot thank enough all those who contributed to that - all readers, my followers, favourites, and, of course, dedicated reviewers.

I suppose the greatest struggle about the epilogue, is finding the right way to end it - so please, if you do have any prompts, and if time and my muse permits, I would be thrilled to hear suggestions. This story is purely for you now, because I know that you all love the show so, so much - and therefore this tale should end the way, I suppose, you see fit.

I really hope that this author's note has offered you some form of closure and explanation as to why I haven't updated, and while the Epilogue for this story sits half-written on my computer, I promise that whenever I encounter that final of moment of inspiration to write it, it will be up here for you all.

All my sincerest apologies and thanks,

G [Porginess]


End file.
